A Song of Moons and Castles
by Masked Mirage
Summary: A Vision of Frost: In the realm of Animare, the one who sits on the Emerald Throne controls the two factions that divide the continent. The moon has risen, but in the darkness the castle rebuilds itself. Disney/Dreamworks/GoT crossover
1. Preface

**PREFACE**

Good day, readers! This part is ALL information and details regarding the characters in this fanfic. If you wish to skip ahead to the story, please click next. If you would like to read the origin of this fanfic and the characters involved, please read on.

First off, I would like to share the story as to how this fanfic came about. It was inspired by the fanfic entitled "A Tale of Two High Schools" by Nardragon that brought together characters of Disney and Dreamworks into one universe (I know the fanfic isn't the first of its kind, but somehow it got to me). I had just finished the 2nd season of Game of Thrones, as well as being halfway through the 1st book, so somehow the Disney/Dreamworks combination merged with the setting of Game of Thrones, and thus this fanfic was born.

This fanfic partially follows Disney/Dreamworks _movie_ canon. If need be, I add details from the source materials and from fanon. Since storylines are combined, I had to tweak them to bring them together. Ages don't exactly follow canon, and I didn't include more details to each House. Characters were renamed and given human forms when necessary. Not all characters who are listed will appear within the fanfic (i.e. House Holmer will be featured less, maybe just mentioned, since I actually haven't watched Madagascar yet), and some characters were added that do not appear in movie canon. All will be explained during the course of the story as to why some houses are where they're not supposed to be. Narrative style follows the ASOIAF series, meaning there will be multiple points of view from various characters.

Now, why would I categorize this fanfic under the Frozen/ROTG crossover? Well, for one thing, the fanfic that inspired this was found in this category. There are several others, but I want this fanfic to speak for itself.

Rating is subject to change, but there will be swearing.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Disney/Dreamworks/Game of Thrones characters, locations, and/or terms. I am just a humble weaver unraveling cloths of stories to thread together and create a new pattern.

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><p><span><em><strong>Houses of ANIMARE<strong>_

**LUSINE FACTION (The Fisherman on the Moon)**

**House Haddock of Berk**

Sigil: Black dragon on red

King Stoick, called the Vast

= his wife, {Valka}, slain during the Haddock Rebellion

= Prince Hiccup, son, heir to the Emerald Throne

= his cousin, Spitelout Jorgenson

- his son, Snotlout, a squire

= his small council:

- Gobber, Lord Hand

- Ser Spitelout Jorgenson, Lord Commander of the Guard

- Lord Murcad, Master of Ships, of House Myrddin

- Lord Harold, Master of Coin, of House Dal

- Facilier, Master of Whisperers

- Grand Maester Badr, called Mim

**House Mu of the Valley of Peace**

Sigil: Two crossed red swords on yellow

Shifu Mu

= his nephew, Po, called Panda, heir to the Valley of Peace

= his children, called the Furious Five

- Chanda, eldest child, daughter, called Tigress

- Harisha, second child, son, called Monkey

- Naga, third child, daughter, called Viper

- Hamza, fourth child, son, called Mantis

- Shikoba, youngest child, son, called Crane

= his councelor, Maester Oogway

**House Dal of the Farlands**

Sigil: White lily on green

Harold Dal

= his wife, Lillian

= their daughter, Fiona, heir apparent to the Farlands

- her husband, Shrek, a foreigner

~ Rhondd, his page, called Donkey

= his nephew, Arthur

= his ward, Vanellope Dulcie, of the Sweetlands

= his captain of the guard, Brendan Fay, called Prince Charming

- his mother, Maylis, a dear friend of House Dal

**House Sigurd of North Pole**

Sigil: Gold open book on blue

Nicholas Sigurd, called North

= his nephew Jackson, called Jack Frost, heir to North Pole

= his daughter, Toothiana

= his household

- Aster Bunnymund, master-at-arms, called Bunny

- Maester Sanderson, called Sandy

- Kozmotis Pitchiner, captain of the guard, called Pitch Black

**House Holmer of Madagas**

Sigil: Orange palm leaf on yellow

Alex Holmer

= his second cousin, Julien Menos

- Maurice, his councelor

- Mort, his page

= his household

- Martin, captain of the guard, called Marty

- Melman, steward

- Gloria, keeper of the household

- Springan, master-at-arms, called Skipper

- Bojan, an orphan, apprentice, called Private

- Ricard, blacksmith, called Rico

- Maester Kowalski

**House Myrddin of Porthaven**

White waves on blue

Murcad Myrddin, Master of Ships on the King's small council

= his son, Lord Eric, acting Lord of Porthaven

- his wife, Lady Ariel of House Pelagos

- their daughter, Melody

**House Altan of Thornwood**

Sigil: Gold fleur de lis on red and blue

Stefan Altan

= his wife, Lady Leah

= their daughter, Aurora, called Briar Rose

- her husband, Ser Phillip Dysme

- their children

~ Rosalind, daughter

~ Roswell, son, heir to Thornwood

**House Desmond of the Southern Isles**

Sigil: Three green circles on blue

Florian Desmond, Master of Laws on the King's small council

= his wife, {Lady Snow}, of House White, recently deceased

= their children

- Diantha, eldest daughter

- Lord Eddur, elder son, heir to the Southern Isles and Lord of the Woodlands

- Anthos, younger son

= Twelve younger brothers

= his councelor, Herceg

**LINNA FACTION (The Castle by the Shooting Star)**

**House Dunbroch of the Highlands**

Sigil: Brown bear on green

Fergus Dunbroch

= his wife, Lady Elinor

= their children

- Merida, daughter

- Harris, eldest of their triplet sons, heir to the Highlands

- Hubert, second of their triplet sons

- Hamish, youngest of their triplet sons

**House Stendahl of Arendelle**

Yellow crocus on purple and green

{Agdar Stendahl}, died at sea

= his wife, {Lady Idun}, of House Stephanos, died at sea

= their children

- {Elsa}, elder daughter, runaway after the invasion of Crocus Bay

- Anna, younger daughter, heir presumptive

= his household

- Kai, steward

- Gerda, governess

- Olaf, a page

- Anzo, personal guard to Elsa, called Marshmallow

**House Stephanos of Corona**

Sigil: Gold sun on lavender

Brennus Stephanos

= his wife, Lady Rhiannon

= their daughter, {Rapunzel}, disappeared as a babe during the Haddock Rebellion

= his sister, {Idun}, wed to Lord Agdar Stendahl

= his household

- Wern, Captain of the Guard

- Maximus, second in command

**House Rana of Maldonia**

Sigil: A golden circle on green

Kagan Rana

= his wife, Lady Thema

= their children

- Naveen, elder son, heir to Maldonia

- Raphielo, called Ralphie, younger son

= Lawrence, a page

**House Rhosyn of the Black Forest**

Sigil: Red rose on blue

Adam Rhosyn, called the Beast of Rhosyn

= his wife, Lady Belle

= their son, Bernard

= his household

- Cogsworth, counselor

- Lumiere, steward

- Missus Potts, cook

~ Chip, her son

**House Maram of Agrabah**

Sigil: Gold lamp on white

Hamed Maram

= his daughter, Jasmine, heir apparent

- her husband, Ser Aladdin

- their daughter, Zahrah

= Rajah, personal guard to Jasmine

**House Pelagos of Atlantica**

Sigil: Gold trident on alternating waves of turquoise and white

Triton Pelagos

= his wife, {Lady Athena}, died at sea

= their children

- Attina, eldest daughter, heir presumptive

- Five daughters

- Ariel, youngest daughter, wed to Lord Eric Myrddin

= his household

- his councelor, Maester Sebastian

- Ser Fishel, called Flounder, a knight, best friend of Ariel

- Nani, an orphan girl from across the sea, keeper of the household

~ Lilo, her sister

**House Leolin of the Pride Lands, The Old Ruling House**

Sigil: Yellow lion on dark brown

{King Mufasa Leolin}, slain during a hunt

= his wife, {Queen Sarabi}, slain during Simba's Return

= his son, King Simba, self-imposed exile to Animat across the sea

- his wife, Queen Nala

- their daughter, Princess Kiara

= his brother {King Taka}, called Scar, slain during Simba's Return

= his household

- his councelor, Zazu

- {Maester Rafiki}

- Timon & Pumbaa, personal aides to Simba

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><p><em><strong>AN**: Took me while to edit the whole thing since the formatting on the site didn't retain the bullets that I had organized. Hopefully this page will be understandable._


	2. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the Disney/Dreamworks/Game of Thrones characters, locations, and/or terms. I am just a humble weaver unraveling cloths of stories to thread together and create a new pattern. _If you would like to read the info and details of this fic, you may go to the Preface section. Thank you!_

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><p><strong>PROLOGUE<strong>

"A few more pieces, what say you, child?" Mama Odie lifted the spoon up to her mouth, smacking her lips after.

Tiana reached over Mama Odie's shoulder and tasted the stew herself. "Three more peppers and it will be perfect."

"Or one of those from Agrabah! Juju!" Mama Odie screamed, and the young boy sleeping in the corner of the cabin straightened up from his perch on a stool. He looked around, dazed, and stood up, swaying a bit. "Juju! Get that little jar with the tiny red peppers and give it to Tia."

The boy nodded and shuffled over to the shelf across the room, rummaging through it until he found what he needed. He handed the jar to Tiana with a wide sleepy smile and slumped back to the stool. Tiana laughed, pulling out one pepper and sniffing it. Just the smell was enough to make her sneeze.

"One Agraban pepper," Tia delicately placed it in Mama Odie's outstretched hand.

"Strong, isn't it?" Mama Odie said with a chuckle as she crushed the pepper and sprinkled it over the stew.

"Indeed…" Tia sat at the table and propped her elbows on it, her chin in her hands. Agrabah was about two weeks away from Atlantica: a five-day journey on board a ship to Porthaven, a three-day horseback ride to the edge of the desert, and the rest on camel. She sighed.

"Thinking about Agrabah, child?" Mama Odie's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Can you tell me about it again?"

The old woman glanced over her shoulder and smiled before turning back to stirring the stew. "It's a very hot place. Mayhaps the hottest day here is the coldest in Agrabah. The Sultan, they call their lord. He lives in a castle, very unlike the Atlantican one. Large, it is, and white, with huge golden domes that end in peaks that point high up in the sky." Mama Odie raised her arm for emphasis. "You'd have to bend your neck so far back, but all you'll ever see are the gilded edges. When the sun sets it is perfectly aligned in between two towers, the light bouncing off the center dome and bathing the entire city in gold."

"How I wish I could go there," Tiana mused. "And then travel the whole Animare. It would be wonderful for them to taste my food." She stood up and sighed again. "But first I'd have to buy myself a ticket to Porthaven."

"Maybe there will be no need to."

Tiana looked at Mama Odie, but the woman's milky white eyes were staring intensely in the pot, the glow of the fire dancing on her wrinkled face. Tia shook her head and reached across the table for the knife and board. The sounds of the knife on the board, the boiling stew and the soft snores of the boy in the corner filled the little cabin.

"Mmm…This is good."

"Is it, Mama Odie?" Tia said, smiling as she chopped the onions. "What does it taste like?"

"Victory, defeat, gain and loss."

Tia laughed. "You can taste all that in the stew?"

When the woman didn't answer, Tiana turned to her and almost dropped the knife. Mama Odie's eyes had glossed over, but they were wide and twinkling and filled with fervor as if the stew held more answers than any man could ever hope to have.

"Mama-"

"Victory, defeat, gain and loss." She repeated. "The castle will rise again with frost."

Mama Odie looked at Tiana, the grin on her face showing gaps between teeth. "Bid your mother farewell, child. There is work to be done." She cackled, and the hairs on the back of Tiana's neck stood on end.

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><p>AN: I shall be putting up the first chapter tomorrow and, depending on the reception, a chapter every week. I know my track record with multi-chap stories isn't exactly good (considering I haven't updated two of my multi-chaps in years which was why I stuck with one shots), but I promised myself that this big project is one I have to finish. I cannot promise that the updating schedule will be consistent, but hopefully this fanfic will have a chapter uploaded weekly, during the weekend. Thank you!


	3. Vanellope I

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the Disney/Dreamworks/Game of Thrones characters, locations, and/or terms. I am just a humble weaver unraveling cloths of stories to thread together and create a new pattern. _If you would like to read the info and details of this fic, you may go to the Preface section. Thank you!_

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><p><strong>VANELLOPE<strong>

In the cold, quiet morning, the maester's words drifted in a garbled speech through Vanellope's one ear and out the other. A shiver ran down her back, and she pulled her cloak closer to her. It did not matter if she was here; no one could have remembered that little princess from that small rebellion. As ward to Lord Harold Dal, however, she was required to attend. She pouted.

"Will this take long?" she heard the gruff accented voice of the husband of Lord Dal's daughter. She glanced sideways, seeing the massive form of Ser Shrek bent close to Lady Fiona's. "Me arse is itchin' in this fool's suit." Vanellope bit her lip to stop herself from giggling out loud.

"About half an hour more," Fiona replied, her tone even, her face impassive, but a hint of a smile showing at the corner of her lips.

"Remind me again who that is and why we're here." Shrek said, crossing his arms over his barrel chest.

Vanellope edged closer to the couple. Frankly, she herself didn't know either. She may have been cared for at House Dal, but no servant, let alone maester, educated her about Animare. A girl of nine is supposed to learn sewing and embroidery and singing, as Lord Harold put it. All her knowledge about the world around her she got from eavesdropping.

Lady Fiona nodded to the man beside the speaking maester. He had graying auburn hair and teary blue eyes. "That's Lord Florian, Lord of the Southern Isles. He is the Master of Laws on the king's small council. Or was, as I've heard some say. The loss of his wife seems to have prompted him to leave the position."

"And that's his wife."

"Yes."

Vanellope moved even closer to the two so she could see in between the guards standing in front of them. There, in a raised glass coffin, lay the body of a beautiful woman, hands folded over evergreen flowers as red as her lips, ebony hair arranged in waves around her, pale skin seemingly glowing in the morning light.

"Snow White," Vanellope whispered the name in unison with Fiona.

"The last surviving descendant of House White. Songs tell of her ethereal beauty, how lords from all over the land had fawned over her and begged to be her betrothed, but her stepmother refused them all, believing herself to be the fairest, and plotted to kill her stepdaughter. Lord Florian was the one who saved Lady Snow. Those are their children."

_They're not children anymore_, Vanellope thought to herself upon seeing the three grown lords and lady beside their father.

"Girl's the youngest?"

Fiona shook her head. "Diantha is the eldest. Eddur comes after. He is the heir to the Southern Isles, and the Lord of the Woodlands. The youngest is Anthos, the black-haired one."

Shrek picked at his teeth. "Aye. Any other people of interest in this lot?"

The lady craned her neck. "I see Lord Hofferson there with his daughter, the blond girl in braids. He is the commander of the City Watch of Thronos. He must have been sent to represent the king. Chanda and Harisha of House Mu, the muscular lady with long, fiery hair, and the golden head next to her. Lady Aurora and Ser Phillip, you met them the other day."

"I don't remember 'em." Shrek yawned widely, and Fiona smacked him on the arm. This time Vanellope couldn't help but snort.

"The little lady thinks we're funny." The large man took one step, towering over her like one of those large oak trees in the Farlands woods.

Vanellope stared up at him, unflinching. She only met Ser Shrek three moons ago, but she had a grudging respect for him, perhaps because he was a foreign common folk who seemed the only one who didn't want or expect anything of her. "You don't scare me."

"Don't laugh." Fiona warned her husband, taking him by the arm. Shrek smirked and straightened himself, clapping Vanellope on the back. She stumbled forward and almost lost her balance.

"Manners, Vanellope," Lord Harold hissed from her other side. "You are not some halfwit from across the sea."

Tensing, Vanellope stole a quick glance at Ser Shrek. He was smiling, so sure of himself, but Fiona's lips were pursed, her eyes on the coffin.

"Harold," came the calm voice of Lady Lillian, his wife. "A funeral is no place for such behavior. Have at least an ounce of respect for the dead."

"I'd rather have respect for the living, thank you," said Lord Harold, and Vanellope could almost hear the groans from his wife and his daughter. A short, portly man of his age shouldn't bother picking a fight with someone like Ser Shrek.

"If the livin' have anything worth respecting." Shrek retorted.

Fiona dug her fingers into his arm. "Enough."

"Or perhaps respect for the living who are grieving the dead."

Vanellope spun around in surprise, although she should have known that voice by now. She had forgotten that Lady Maylis Fay stood behind them, her plump face twisted into her bizarre grin that never seemed to say if she was happy or not. Beside her, her son Brendan, House Dal's captain of the guard, eased back on his heels, hand on the hilt of his sword. He tossed his head, his wavy golden locks falling just so, framing his chiseled jaw.

"The ogre knows no bounds." Brendan said, just loud enough that the persons in the immediate vicinity turned to look. "He would rather rampage through the ceremony than observe our way of mourning."

"Perhaps I should rampage me fist through yer face," Shrek cracked his knuckles.

"Is something the matter, my lords and ladies?" Silence descended on them as Lord Eddur Desmond approached them.

"My apologies," Harold bowed his head. "We have a foreigner in our presence. He knows not our customs, so we are trying to explain them to him."

Shrek shook his head. "I perfectly understand what is goin' on, me lordliness, but these rightful bastards be underestimating me."

Lord Eddur looked him up and down before speaking. "Such language. We do not throw the word bastard around like common trash. Maybe it is best if you would refrain from using it so in the future. We would very much like you to stay, but I see that you are distressing the ladies at the back." He turned to Harold. "Apologies, Lord Dal, but we would like to escort him," Lord Eddur nodded to Shrek, "to the edge of the forest."

"I would beg for your pardon, my lord," Harold bowed, and Vanellope saw the slightest hint of a smirk. "But I could not possibly object to such a request."

Sighing, Lord Eddur addressed the guards standing close by. "Commander, kindly escort the Ser."

"I shall join him," Fiona spoke, and Harold looked at her incredulously. "Father, mother."

Lady Lillian nodded her consent, the light going out from her eyes. Vanellope's gaze followed the husband and wife in between the guards as they walked to the back of the gathering. Lord Eddur excused himself and returned to his place beside his father.

"That was rash, even for you, Harold," Lillian whispered. "He is our son now."

"Vanellope is more of my child to me than that ogre ever is or will be." Harold put his arm around Vanellope, but she shrugged him off.

"You only met him three moons ago," she said. "By right he is more of a child of yours than I will ever be."

A soft giggle came from the back. Lady Maylis leaned forward, in between Vanellope and Harold, speaking just loud enough for the two of them to hear. "The little lady is reading up on law. No wonder Fiona found such a… man. The girls of your house are given too much freedom."

Lord Harold flushed, his face livid. "She shall be reprimanded."

Vanellope gritted her teeth. Lady Maylis may only be the mother of the lord of House Fay, a sworn house to House Dal, but what hold did the woman have over Lord Harold Dal?

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><p><em>AN: The reason why Vanellope's name is not von Schweetz: I actually forgot she had a canon surname, but looking at it, it didn't seem to fit in with the other names, which is weird considering this is a hodge podge of movies with different naming systems. Same goes with North's surname of St. North._


	4. Jack I

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the Disney/Dreamworks/Game of Thrones characters, locations, and/or terms. I am just a humble weaver unraveling cloths of stories to thread together and create a new pattern. _If you would like to read the info and details of this fic, you may go to the Preface section. Thank you!_

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><p><strong>JACK<strong>

The whispers sounded like the flies in the market, buzzing in droves over some fresh meat. Jack was not particularly fresh meat when it came to Animaren nobility, but he always seemed to strike a certain chord whenever he was around. He could see from what few people out late at night in the small village at the edge of North Pole that they were trying hard not to gape at him. He yawned widely, and slumped in his saddle, closing his eyes.

"Careful, Lord Frost. You might fall and muddy yourself."

Jack opened his eyes. The thin crowd parted, letting a group of men on horseback pass through the narrow main road, the banners of the gold open book on blue flapping in the wind. The man who spoke rode at the forefront, mounted on a gray gelding and covered in gray furs. Aster Bunnymund, House Sigurd's master-at-arms. Jack pressed his heels to the side of his horse, leading it forward.

"How goes the Pole, Bunny?"

The man winced. "That name sounded better from the mouth of a child, Frost. But the Pole is the same as always. And you? Still gambling your way around the world?"

Jack looked around at the villagers, who averted their eyes. "Well, I certainly felt more comfortable in Animat. Here people stare at me like I'm the bloody fisherman come to take them to the moon." He ran his fingers through his most unusual feature: his white hair.

"It's because you never dye the damn thing."

"Spare me your lectures, Aster. I'll never heed them anyway. Come on." Jack kicked his horse into a trot up the start of the sloping road, and Aster and the rest of the men were forced to comply.

"So, what does my uncle want?" Jack asked, riding ahead of the others.

"Has it ever crossed your mind that he misses you?" Aster called, and Jack smirked when he heard the man's huffing, trying to keep up with him.

"It has, but he wouldn't summon me unless it was of utmost importance." Jack reined in the horse to stop in front of a series of stables. He and his companions dismounted and led their horses inside one of the stables. Once the horses were settled, they went to the next stable and each picked a reindeer, with Jack moving his packs to a spare reindeer.

Reindeer could only traverse the steep mountain road going up the mountain to the castle of North Pole, especially during the winter season. Horses could manage, but would easily tire halfway through the journey, and there weren't any more stables in between the one at the foot of the mountain and the castle.

"Maybe we could rest first," Jack said, eyeing the road. It would take them more than half a day to reach the top, at best, and they chose to begin their journey just after midnight. "I haven't eaten anything yet."

Aster tossed him a pouch. Inside were a loaf of bread with dried fruits and nuts and a skin of water. "That'll do for now, Lord Frost. You'll be dining on roasted pigs soon enough."

The retinue continued through the carved path along the mountainside, occasionally passing some merchant who brought provisions up. It had been more than a year since Jack was last here, trekking up the same road to the same castle built in the highest peak of North Pole. Standing for more than three centuries, the castle of North Pole consisted of one huge structure topped with a domed roof, surrounded by turrets on one side and a viaduct connecting to the main watchtower where one could practically see the land that stretched south. When the Sigurds first arrived they took up residence on the mountain, carving from the solid rock the rooms that are still in use to this day, and putting up a tall pole that could have been seen even from the foot of the mountain to mark their territory. Even with the pole long gone, the place still retained its name: the North Pole. About two centuries before, invaders attacked the villages at the foot of the mountain. They abducted children for slavery and slaughtered the adults. House Sigurd took up arms and fought them off, afterwards sheltering the children and earning them the name guardians of children. The house has since maintained a close relationship with the people under their rule.

Today, as Jack could see in the early morning sun, the large castle doors, made of the finest timber and engraved with swirls surrounding the open book sigil of Sigurd, were open. They always were, but the amount of people coming and going numbered more than usual. Jack turned to Aster.

"Does uncle need that much supplies to travel to Thronos?"

"Just because you lived off the land doesn't mean your uncle should do the same," Aster said, nodding to each person passing.

Jack scowled and didn't say anything the rest of the way to the castle. When Jack dismounted the reindeer, a young boy ran to him and held out a goblet. Jack looked at it, hands still clasped on the reins.

"Wine, m'lord?" the boy practically shoved the cup in Jack's face.

"Jamie!" Aster called as he dismounted himself. The boy bowed low before Jack and ran to Aster, the wine sloshing about, before handing it to the master-at-arms. Aster took a long drink and waved the boy away.

"He wasn't here the last time," Jack said, leading the reindeer to the stables.

Aster snorted. "He just arrived about half a year ago, you wouldn't know. He lost his father in a hunting accident. Lord North hired his mother as a cook, so now he and his sister live here. The boy's running errands, a big help around here. Could use a bit of enthusiasm from the young." He smirked at Jack.

Dropping the reins in the hands of a stable boy, Jack walked out of the stables with Aster following him. "That's one thing I don't lack."

"Then I hope you'll be _enthusiastic_ to meet the new workers."

Jack sighed and let Aster lead the way. "Must I?" he whispered. "I just rode day and night to get here. Can I not get at least two days of rest? I have things I would like to unpack first."

"As much as I hate to admit it, you are now the guardian of North Pole." Aster looked him in the eye. "Act like one."

Jack frowned, then rolled his eyes and relented. Aster walked him around the courtyard, pointing out the fresh faces serving at the castle. There were Geron, a wizened old man who provided feed for the horses and reindeer; Anu and his two young girls, hailing from the south and arrived at the North Pole almost a year ago, who would take weekly trips from the base of the mountain to deliver chickens and eggs; Lumi and her bald, hulking brother Kliment who daily brought newly picked vegetables and herbs; and Bennie, the new cook and the boy Jamie's mother, and her daughter Sophie.

"Bunny!" the little girl squealed, standing on her tiptoes and reaching for the master-at-arms. "Bunny!"

Aster bent and picked her up. "Hello there, ankle-biter. How are you today?"

Sophie didn't reply. She stared at Jack with wide eyes as she clung tightly to Aster. "Hair."

"That's Lord Frost, little one."

"Sigurd," Jack corrected. "Not Frost. I tire of that name. Enough of it."

"My name's Bunnymund, not Bunny, and yet I'm still called that." Aster replied.

"Because you _are_ one," countered Jack, enunciating each word.

"Lord Jackson."

Jack turned at the sound of the voice. A plump man with a smooth face that contrasted his age and wispy golden hair, wearing a fine thick coat of the same color and embroidered with elaborate spirals, stood at the kitchen doorway. He walked in with a light gait as if he was floating on air. Jack inclined his head in respect.

"Maester Sandy."

"Lord Nicholas requests your presence in the globe room."

"Finally," Jack stuck out his tongue playfully at the little girl Sophie when he passed her and Aster, and followed Maester Sandy out of the kitchen. As soon as they were in the corridor, Jack spoke. "What pressing matter has my uncle so uneasy that he sent for me at once? Am I needed as his companion to Thronos?"

Maester Sandy only smiled. He was the kind of man who let his actions do the talking for him. Their trip to the globe room was a silent one, not that Jack minded. It was a nice change from the noisy streets of Animat.

They stopped as the door to the globe room opened. A tall, lanky man stepped out, dressed from head to foot in black, his black hair slicked back with oils and beady eyes that stared with an indifferent conviction that Jack knew inspired fear in the hearts of most men. The man bowed at the waist, and Jack straightened upon seeing the mocking smile on his lips.

"Pitch." Jack greeted the captain of the guard. Maester Sandy cuffed him on the arm. "Oh, so sorry, _Captain Pitchiner_."

Pitch laughed, a deep tone that filled the corridor. "That's right, you have to act like the little lord you are now, Frost."

"And what do you mean by that?"

"Perhaps it is best to ask your uncle. I suspect that is why he will speak with you, Lord Sigurd." Pitch bowed again before taking his leave.

Maester Sandy urged Jack forward. Jack blinked and placed his hand on the door and pushed it open.

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><p><em>AN: And so begins the weekly update. To the guest who reviewed, there may be, and with that the rating is subject to change. _

_Reviews would be lovely :) Thanks!_


	5. North I

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the Disney/Dreamworks/Game of Thrones characters, locations, and/or terms. I am just a humble weaver unraveling cloths of stories to thread together and create a new pattern. _If you would like to read the info and details of this fic, you may go to the Preface section. Thank you!_

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><p><strong>NORTH<strong>

North peeled the apple with quick precision, discarding the skin on the plate before taking a large bite. As he chewed, he regarded his nephew with annoyance. Jack sat lazily on the chair, legs stretched out in front of him, drumming his fingers on the goblet. The boy looked like he didn't have a care in the world. He probably didn't, considering he was raised around the world by free spirited parents. North found himself regretting he didn't have any sons, but he caught himself. No one was to blame for that. Jackson was his heir, and Animare be damned if anyone denied the boy's right.

"Jack-"

"Master of Laws seems boring," his nephew interrupted. "Isn't that position cursed? From what I remember, there have been two before you who served. Three turns in seventeen years. Seems a bit much, doesn't it?"

"Lord Frollo was a fraud and Lord Desmond would like to grieve in peace. I have no more wife to grieve for."

"And you are definitely an honest man."

North's forehead creased. "Don't mock me, boy. You may be my nephew but I can still kick your arse."

"Have a drink, uncle. Has the position already made you so uptight?"

North sighed. "I'm just worried, leaving you here as the Lord of North Pole. I just hope not to find it in ruins when I return."

Jack raised the goblet with a smirk. "I can't make any promises."

"But Thronos... Thronos is different. A change is coming. I can feel it in my belly," North whispered, jiggling his stomach.

Jack groaned and rolled his eyes before taking another sip from the goblet. "Are you sure you're not just craving for roast beef? They're quite delicious in Thronos."

"This is more than roast beef, Jack." North rubbed his temple. He could sense an impending headache.

"There is nothing more than food, uncle. Nothing more than food and wine and gambling."

"Your life is more than food and wine and gambling."

"Without any of those, there is no life to live."

Uncle and nephew stared each other down. They broke their gaze when the door burst open and North's young daughter bound in. North could see Maester Sandy waving his hands wildly as if he made to stop her but to no avail.

"Sorry, my lord, but the lady insisted-"

"It's all right, Maester Sandy," said North. "Close the door behind you, will you, my sweet?"

His daughter complied with a spring in her step and a grin on her face. "Jack!"

"Tooth!" Jack stood up and hugged her. "That is a beautiful coat you have on. Where did you get it?"

Toothiana twirled, her cloak billowing out, making the colors shift from blue to green to yellow. She giggled. "Father bought it for me the last time he was in Thronos. He said it came from Atlantis. Have you been there, Jack? Oh, where have you been, dearest cousin?"

"I've been everywhere you can imagine!" Jack pointed to a spot on the map carved on the round table. "The Valley of Peace to the east, part of the Black Forest where I dared try to glimpse the Beast of Rhosyn, Arendelle during the crocus blooming season, Corona and the festival of the lights, the Pride Lands and Agrabah and their sweltering deserts. Been across the sea too. Atlantis, Olympus, you name it. I've gotten gifts for you from all over Animare, and I haven't even begun with Animat. Spent more than half of my time touring only the western kingdoms before your father asked me to return."

North cleared his throat. "Tooth, forgive me, but I have to talk to your cousin in private. You can share tales later tonight at the feast."

"Anything you have to say you can say in front of me, father." Tooth stood tall, and North could have sworn he saw her mother right there. "Am I not your daughter? Or is it because Jack is your heir that I have no right to know anything?"

He was taken aback. His daughter was small in stature as her mother, even at sixteen, but the confidence that radiated from her made her seem twice as tall. Her brown hair was from him, but everything else, from her green eyes to her ferocity that could be traced to the Hoffersons of Berk, were from her mother. Two miscarriages and two stillborn before Tooth, and another stillborn after, when the fisherman also took his wife, and, upon his refusal to take another wife, the line of succession passed to North's younger sister, who had a son.

"You… you are my daughter. And though you are not my heir," North paused. "You are a Sigurd, and should know of what is to come."

A hint of a smile on her lips, Tooth took the seat closer to her father. "I already know that you are appointed as Master of Laws on the small council of King Stoick, and the reason Jack is here is because he will be Lord of North Pole in your stead."

"Yes, but I am worried." North turned his back on them. "I have been offered a position in the midst of snakes and spiders. Their poison is deadlier than any that I have faced on the battlefield, a dance to avoid crushing them lest a misstep sends venom coursing through my veins."

"King Stoick is just." Tooth said, confusion and doubt laced in her voice.

"Not all who are just are surrounded by the same people," muttered Jack, and North had to agree with that.

"Your cousin speaks true. Lord Spitelout is competent, but he is not wise and does not see what lies beneath. Lord Murcad is a craven who only defected to Lusine when he knew we were winning. Lord Harold is too frail and pliable to do anything other than count money. The Lord Hand and the Grand Maester at least I know I can trust. But Facilier is who worries me. Nothing much is known about him, except that he is Maldonian. But I have heard that he has shadows, actual shadows, to do his bidding."

"Actual shadows?" Jack laughed. "Uncle, I have been to Thronos, and I have seen the Master of Whispers. He is but a thin man whose goatee is getting out of hand."

"You have seen him, but you haven't met him." North walked to the window and looked down the edge at the sheer drop to the valley below, stroking his bushy white beard. "I have, and there was something about him, like there was something dark in his eyes…"

"Like Pitch?" Jack meant for it as a joke, but North turned to him slowly.

"Yes, like Pitch." North saw his nephew shrug, a bored look on his face, and take another drink. "I will be leaving early on the morrow, and will arrive just in time for Prince Hiccup's name day."

Jack snorted, nearly coughing up his drink. "Hiccup, Spitelout. How do people in Berk name their children?"

North was about to answer, but Tooth spoke first, a trace of animosity in her tone. "They wait two years before they name their children, observing whatever dominant trait will be seen. Did you ever wonder why I was named Toothiana? For the most part of my first two years I kept on yanking at people's teeth. My mother thought it was an appropriate name."

"I meant no disrespect, dear cousin," Jack said softly.

Bristling with anger, North slammed his fist on the table, "Your eighteenth name day is fast approaching. You are almost a man grown, fisherman be damned!" He took a deep breath. North was torn between treating Jack like the boy he was and the lord guardian he ought to be. "Jack, you possess greatness within you. Don't let it come to naught."

He took another deep breath, feeling as if he had run from the base of the mountain and back. "I am needed in Thronos at once. The council is to discuss the issue of..." North paused for a brief moment to glance quickly at his daughter. "Prince Hiccup's betrothed."

Jack leaned back in the chair, tilting his head in Tooth's direction. So, his nephew had seen his subtle action. North nodded slightly, hoping Tooth did not catch it. Jack's face darkened, then he stared out the window.

"The engagement will be announced on the last day of the celebrations."

"Are they making that decision behind his back?" Jack said sharply, turning back to North.

Staring Jack down, North said as evenly as he could muster, perhaps more to himself than to Jack, "It was decided long ago. There is no turning back now."

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><p><em>AN: Reviews would be lovely :) Thanks!_


	6. Merida I

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the Disney/Dreamworks/Game of Thrones characters, locations, and/or terms. I am just a humble weaver unraveling cloths of stories to thread together and create a new pattern. _If you would like to read the info and details of this fic, you may go to the Preface section. Thank you!_

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><p><strong>MERIDA<strong>

There were many things Merida hated, coming to Thronos. The humid weather, being dressed in the fancy silks and thick skirts that did nothing but worsen the heat, the constant curtsying and fake smiles. But this. This was not one of those things.

Merida stood beside her parents and triplet brothers at a gallery close to the king. Participants from all across the land and even from Animat across the sea converged to Thronos to participate in the tournaments in honor of Prince Hiccup's eighteenth name day, and all of them were required to present themselves to the royal family in a grand parade, from lowly hedge knights and sellswords to highborn lords and, as Merida stared in awe, ladies.

"It's her." Merida whispered.

The next participant was mounted on a black courser, bow slung over one shoulder, hair tied back into a bun, and wearing the warrior's outfit of Jun. It was the Exalted Princess, Lady Mulan.

When Merida was young, she heard of great tales and songs of a rebellion in the south led by a young girl as fierce as any of her comrades, the likes that Animare has never seen. In two years time the girl rose in rank and was knighted by the king, aside from earning recognitions from kingdoms in Animat. Merida heard the knighting was only a reward for pledging fealty to the crown, but Merida's admiration never wavered. Lady Mulan has since become her hero.

Merida cheered loudly with the rest of the crowd, earning a disapproving look from her mother Elinor. "Merida, that is no proper way for a lady to behave."

"Let her," her father said. Fergus Dunbroch was a large man with a full head of red hair that Merida inherited, and he had a big heart, especially for his daughter. "When does one get to meet the person one admires?"

Her mother sniffled in disagreement but said nothing. Merida was practically bouncing up and down. The songs spoke of Lady Mulan's excellent archery skills and wit in combat, but not of her elegance. She, together with her husband Lord Shang who preceded her in the procession, was elevated to the rank of nobility after her knighting, and now the ruling house of a sizable land north of the city of Jun in Animat.

As she passed Merida and her family, Lady Mulan waved. Merida thought her face would tear from her wide grin. She turned to her parents. "Did you see that? She looked this way! She did!"

Her brothers laughed, and she would have smacked all three of them, but her joy could not be diminished.

"Lord Shang Li of Jun," the announcer's voice rose over the din. "And his wife, Lady Mulan."

The lord and lady bowed their heads in reverence, and King Stoick did the same. Prince Hiccup managed a clumsy bob of the head, and Merida snorted. Elinor squeezed her daughter's arm.

"Oh, father," Merida said after finally tearing her eyes from the receding figure of her hero. "Say you will introduce them to me."

"Merida!" her mother chastised. "He will not introduce them to you."

Merida opened her mouth to protest, but her father held up a hand. "Not now, at least. We have to wait until the banquet tonight." And he smiled a smile that extended to his eyes.

The girl thought she was about to cry. "Oh, father, thank you!"

"As long as you wear that fine silk dress given by Lady MacGuffin," said Elinor. "And we'll have to tame that mane of yours. Lady Hofferson was gracious enough to gift us with bejeweled clips. We should wear those to show our gratitude."

Letting her mother prattle on about this necklace or that belt, Merida returned her focus to the parade. She didn't mind, then, what her mother would put her in. All that ever mattered was the banquet.

Prince Hiccup's name day celebration was a weeklong affair. The prince was already a man grown, which was an extra cause to celebrate. The first day consisted of the parade in the morning, followed by the welcome banquet that would begin at dusk. The second day held the jousting tourney, followed by the archery competition on the third and the melee the day after. The fifth day was the official celebration, lasting a whole day of drinking and feasting. The awarding of winners followed, and the seventh ended with a send off feast in gratitude to the guests.

"Ouch!" Merida squirmed, trying to get away as her mother poked her again with a pin. Her whole afternoon was spent getting ready, her mother fussing over every single detail, never once allowing her out of her room. Even in the atrium where the banquet was being held Elinor was not yet satisfied with her daughter's looks.

"Stop fidgeting!" Elinor hissed, tugging at a loosened lock. "Your father shouldn't have told you yes so you wouldn't go bolting out the door at the earliest possible moment without even having to be properly dressed."

"Where is she?" Merida said, standing on tiptoe to see over the crowd. "Will she be here?"

"Of course," her mother answered. "She is obliged to attend. It would be an insult to the royal family if she were not at the banquet."

"Is that Chanda of House Mu?" Merida gasped. "No, it's not just her! It's the entire Furious Five!"

"I heard the eldest is joining the melee. The youngest two are in the joust, with the two in the middle up against Lady Mulan in the archery competition." Fergus explained in a hushed voice.

"Why were they not at the parade?" Elinor wondered aloud as she secured the clasp of the necklace around Merida's neck.

"I heard Chanda and Harisha were at the funeral of Lady Snow, and met up with their siblings on the way here."

"We should have been there too, at the funeral…"

"Desmond and White may have been Linna, but they are Lusine now. I would rather have my other leg torn off than be at the presence of those-"

"Fergus." Elinor warned. "We are at peace now with Lusine. It would be best to merge the two factions."

Fergus grumbled. Merida picked up the words _steak_ and _bear_ and wondered what could possibly be going through her father's mind at the moment. Her thoughts ceased when she spotted a familiar face in the crowd. Merida's hand found her father's arm and she clawed at him. Fergus yelped, startling Elinor as well.

"Father!" Merida exclaimed. "There she is!"

"Stars, child, will you compose yourself?" Elinor scolded, putting her hands on Merida's shoulders to keep the girl still. "Dear, please, before your daughter hurts herself."

Fuming and rubbing at the spot where Merida's fingernails had caused red scratches, Fergus waded carefully through the crowd. Merida took regulated breaths as Fergus returned, Lady Mulan and Lord Shang following him.

"Uh, Lord Shang and fair lady…" Fergus paused. "Might I present my family… uh, and my sons are somewhere around here…"

Merida heard Elinor sigh before stepping forward. "Forgive him, my husband is not that accustomed to speaking in public, as you may know." She laughed airily. "We have not yet had the chance to introduce you to our wonderful children. They were not with us the last time we met." Elinor coaxed Merida forward. "Our eldest, Merida Dunbroch."

"A-an honor, my lord and lady." Merida tried her best to curtsy without toppling over. "A great honor to finally meet you."

"And our sons, Harris, Hubert and Hamish," Elinor pressed her lips together when the triplets ran to her, sweet buns stuffed into their surcoats, powdered sugar surrounded their mouths. They beamed and bowed at the same time, several buns falling out and tumbling onto the floor. "Please excuse them."

"They are indeed wonderful," Lady Mulan said, smiling at each of them. Merida tried to lessen her grin, knowing her face would hurt afterwards.

A loud bell rang out, announcing the arrival of the king and the prince. Everyone in the room lowered their heads in respect. "The greetings to the prince shall commence in a moment," the announcer declared.

"Forgive us, Lord and Lady Li," Elinor said, glancing at the dais where King Stoick and Prince Hiccup were seated. "We wish to prolong the conversation, but we would like to offer our compliments to the prince."

"Of course," Lord Shang answered.

Merida's heart sank, seeing the lord and lady retreat back into the crowd. "Mother! Couldn't we have stayed a little longer?"

"No!" Elinor ushered Merida to the dais. "We have to go to the prince right now."

"We have all night-"

"Your mother knows what is right," Fergus solemnly said as he followed them, the triplets waddling after him. "I'm sorry."

"I am too," Merida muttered under her breath when Prince Hiccup and his freckled face came into view.

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><p><em>AN: To the guests (or guest, assuming you are the same person) who reviewed: I'll try? This feels like I'm writing a GoT fanfic as well even if there are no characters involved. I guess that comes with setting this fic in that universe *eyetwitch*. And to the second review, thank you :)_

_As always, r_eviews would be lovely :) Thanks!__


	7. Tiana I

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the Disney/Dreamworks/Game of Thrones characters, locations, and/or terms. I am just a humble weaver unraveling cloths of stories to thread together and create a new pattern. _If you would like to read the info and details of this fic, you may go to the Preface section. Thank you!_

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><p><strong>TIANA<strong>

Soft, melancholy music filled the air as Mama Odie pulled the cloak tighter around Tiana's body. "I am so sorry for having to ask this of you, child. You are the only one I can trust this with."

"You helped my family, Mama Odie. It's the least I can do." Tiana smiled and slung a satchel over her shoulder.

The old woman looked at Tia tearfully, like she was peering into the soul. "I fear it is too much for you. It is a burden I do not wish to impart to you, but I am old. I cannot travel as much."

"I would gladly accept the burden-"

"No, you will find that you would not." Mama Odie interrupted, her usual jovial face taking on a somber expression. "Animare is a dangerous place for one who bears what you have. There are shadows everywhere, whose eyes and ears belong to men who wish to hold onto what is not theirs, and they will do what must be done to keep it. I told you to take with you those whom you can truly count on," her milky white eyes narrowed. "Did you do as I said?"

Tiana looked over at one figure under the shade of the tree playing the flute, and the other leaning against the swaying boat. The trip was sudden, as was her leaving; she was to take the word of what Mama Odie had seen in the smoke to someone in the mainland of Animare, but no one was to know. Mama Odie helped explain to Tiana's mother that Tiana was chosen to deliver a special spice directly to the hands of a merchant somewhere in the Highlands, and must be done so without delay so as not to spoil the merchandise. Tiana was to take a companion, who should not know of the truth, and someone who could ferry them across the sea to the mainland. In her whole life, the only people she had ever trusted could be counted on one hand. Two of them were with her right now.

Louis, with his large build and passion for music, was her cousin and childhood friend. He was like a brother to her. Rey was a middle-aged widower who had sailed to Animat and back countless times. Tiana met him as a young girl, and was the one who led her family to Mama Odie. She knew in her heart that she could entrust her life to them.

Turning back to Mama Odie, Tiana nodded grimly. Forgetting that she could not be seen, she added, "Yes, I did."

"Take care of yourself, child. And them too." Mama Odie chuckled and shouted over Tiana's shoulder, "You take care of this girl, you hear me? Or the both of you will end up as part of my next stew."

"There be no problems with me," Ray said as he untied the rope tethering the boat to the shore. "Though this other one right here…"

The music stopped. Louis crossed his arms and glared at Ray. "Are we not leaving yet, Tia?"

Mama Odie cupped Tiana's face in her hands "I can only keep the shadows out of Atlantica. I cannot shed light on the mainland. But if you find her, she will be your light." She gave Tia a kiss on the cheek. "May the shooting star guide you safely to your destination."

Pressing her lips to the top of the old woman's head, Tiana replied, "And may it shine on your purpose as well."

The moon was bright and full in the sky when Tia climbed into the boat. The same melancholy music that Louis was playing earlier struck up once again, the boat bobbing about the water as it pulled out of the inlet. All Tia had ever known was Atlantica. It held her life, and though she was willing to leave it to travel Animare and live her dream, she never thought it would be under these circumstances.

She felt the warm stone bounce against her chest, and she ran her hand over her tunic, feeling the amulet through the thick fabric. A vision in the smoke, Mama Odie had said, a vision of frost in the flames. Tia understood nothing of it. She felt like a vegetable picked from the ground, chopped up and thrown at once into the stew without a moment to spare. She was sent to find the old lady in the forest near the seat of Wayra, the amulet her proof that she had been charged by Odie of Atlantica, with nothing more than a few scribbled instructions on a map of mainland Animare.

"You all right there, chere?" Ray asked from his position on the stern. "Not half a day from home and you already sick for it?"

Laughing softly, Tiana answered, "No, I… I'm uncertain is all."

"No worries, no worries," Ray waved his hand dismissively. "I've got you protected under my wing. We'll be taking you to that buyer and be getting a sack of gold for it."

"I wouldn't exactly say a sack of gold…"

"Enough t'buy you that trip around Animare with your cooking, ain't it not? This be just your first step to that."

Tiana sighed. "I wish."

"Mama Odie ain't about to let you on some fool's journey. That woman may not be right in the head all the time but she got a good heart."

His words echoed in her, making Tiana shiver suddenly. A sad humming accompanied the flute as Ray's voice mingled with Louis's tune, and Tiana let herself be lulled by the gentle swaying of the boat in time with the music.

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><p><em>AN: Reviews would be lovely :) Thanks!_


	8. Hiccup I

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the Disney/Dreamworks/Game of Thrones characters, locations, and/or terms. I am just a humble weaver unraveling cloths of stories to thread together and create a new pattern. _If you would like to read the info and details of this fic, or if you are c_onfused about some characters' names,_ you may go to the Preface section. Thank you!_

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><p><strong>HICCUP<strong>

"Our father sends his deepest regrets for his absence," Lord Harisha spoke, but Hiccup could see the man was nervous, and the lady behind him, his sister as Hiccup recalled, glowered like a tiger. "And wishes the prince a long and prosperous life."

"Thank you," Hiccup muttered with a small smile.

He felt his father's massive form stir on the throne. Hiccup gulped. "The Prince would like to thank Lord Shifu for his well wishes and forgives his absence at such a momentous occasion." His father paused, and Hiccup could feel his glance. "He would also like to extend to the attendees of House Mu the hospitality of the realm, that it is at your service as you are to it."

"On behalf of House Mu, a great many thanks."

"How is your father, Lord Harisha?"

"He is well, Your Grace. He is hard at work, providing the same training my siblings and I had to the… rightful heir of the Valley."

"I do imagine. Priming an heir can be an arduous job."

The entire conversation between the lord and the king was spent with Hiccup staring at the floor, not once saying a single word. Majority of his talk with the court ended this way, and not just tonight at the banquet. The courtesan would speak, ask him a question or his opinion, and he would reply in sparse, sometimes one-word, comments. If he were required more than that, he would often stumble over his words and go to lengthy and confusing dialogue until his father stopped him. At which point his father would take over and answer for him, rendering him silent, trying hard not to leave.

When Lord Harisha and his siblings left, Hiccup could see in the corner of his eye that his father had requested the greetings to the prince to cease.

"Hiccup," there it was, that voice that his father used when he had been a disappointment. Hiccup said nothing and continued to stare at the floor.

"You are the heir to the throne, someday to be king. Mere mumbles do not a king make. Shout, to be heard. Look up, to see. It is our duty and our burden. You were born for this."

"I was not," Hiccup said, his gaze unmoving. Born for Berk, perhaps. But not for Thronos. Not for Animare. "May I be excused?"

"You are expected to receive the guests tonight," his father's voice then unusually softened. "But as it is _your_ celebration…" he sighed. "I shall tell them you are feeling ill."

"Many thanks, Your Grace," Hiccup shouldn't have said that, but he suddenly felt a little bit reckless tonight. He bowed a little lower than the formal manner to add to his sarcastic remark, and walked to his room, the whole time avoiding looking at his father.

Hiccup slowed as he climbed up the steps of Incantare. The castle was a large structure, full of turrets and towers. From his history lessons with Grand Maester Mim, Hiccup knew that it was based on the Linna belief that their gods all lived in a castle built where they could see the shooting star that fell every few hundred or so years. But this castle, even if he had been living in it for more than half of his life now, still did not feel like home.

He ran his hands on the cold cobbles. He never belonged here. The distant memories of his childhood in Berk brought more warmth to him than any of the hot summers in Thronos combined. It had been years since he was there, but he could still feel the salty sea air that cooled his face, smell the pine trees in the woods he lost himself in, hear the songs of the grandmothers that put him to sleep. And there, when he slept, he could still get a glimpse of a pair of light green eyes and a sweet voice that he never knew to whom it belonged to. That memory (or was it just a dream?) was long gone now. Ever since he arrived in realm's capital it had slowly faded away to nothing more than a flash of green and silence.

He took the spiral staircase to the second tallest tower that led to his room. Locking the door behind him, Hiccup staggered to the bed and lay on his back. His eyes found the banner hanging on the back of the door bearing the Haddock sigil of the black dragon on red.

"When you wear it, you carry all of us with you." Hiccup mimicked his father's tone during his last name day, when the banner was given as a gift.

Stoick Haddock was a proud man, fierce and wise. Growing up, Hiccup heard tales of his father's legendary rebellion. Animare was in a state of famine and desolation under the rule of the last Leolin king, Taka. The Lusine faction banded together to overthrow the incompetent ruler, and Stoick the Vast, known for his colossal build that rivaled Fergus Dunbroch, ascended the throne as chosen by the houses of Lusine. It took him years to rebuild what was lost, and when the realm was as stable as he could make of it, he took his son from Berk to be brought up in Thronos as the next king of Animare. Hiccup was eight. It had been ten years since then.

A knock interrupted his thoughts. There was only one person in the entire castle who would want to speak to him other than his father on any other occasion than a court meeting. Hiccup crossed the distance from the bed to the door. He took a deep breath before unlocking the door and pulling it open. A wide grin greeted him.

"A very happy name day to you, Prince Hiccup."

"I am in no mood for talks, Gobber." Hiccup said, but let the man in anyway.

Gobber was a long time friend of his father's, and no one was surprised when he was named the Hand of the King. The man lost his leg during the rebellion, and now walked on a peg leg. If Hiccup was honest with himself, and he tried to be most of the time, Gobber was his only friend in Thronos. Perhaps even the whole of Animare. Gobber not only offered advice to Stoick; Hiccup also sought counsel with him.

The alternating clunk of Gobber's peg leg filled in the silence before he sat down on a cushioned chair with a groan. "Do not make me find you up here again. I am too old for this."

"One is never too old to give advice, nor seek it." Hiccup echoed Grand Maester Mim's many reflections that he shared with the young Haddock.

"I was not saying it was the… Oh, never you mind," waving his hand, Gobber sat back on the chair. "Your father told me about what had happened earlier."

"Is there a point to this discussion? Because we have talked about this so many times before I have already lost count."

The Hand of the King rolled his eyes, so different from the persona he put on in public. "And yet you never learn. Hiccup, you are a man grown."

"Not in a few days."

"Does that make any difference?"

Hiccup sat on his bed. "Perhaps I should be a smith instead. I am no king. Astrid is better than I am, and she's a woman."

"So many women are better than you," Gobber stretched before closing his eyes. "Lady Chanda for one. And Lady Naga as well, since we are on House Mu. Lady Pocahontas Wayra. Lady Mulan Li. I have even heard tale of the common wife of the heir of Theos in Animat who defied a shadowmancer to save her husband."

"Where are we going with this? I understand; I am such a failure that I should be the one in skirts." Hiccup could feel the tears sting.

"I did not say that. The Princess of Nedakh, Kida, was her father's only child. He groomed her to be a leader, and she did not protest. Now she is one, and a fairly good one at that. You are born the son of a king, Stoick's heir. You are to rule over Animare, regardless of you being a man or not."

Hiccup looked at Gobber, and Gobber opened an eye to look at him. "Then Astrid should rule."

"Astrid is a warrior. She is no more a leader than Snotlout is."

"Snotlout is neither."

Gobber shrugged. "That is an accurate observation, but he's a better warrior than you."

"Can warriors be leaders?" Hiccup wondered aloud. "Astrid is-"

"Astrid has found herself into more of our conversations as of late. Has the prince given his heart away?" Gobber teased.

Hiccup felt himself burn up. "N-no!" he stammered, and Gobber's grin grew wider. "No!"

"As it pleases you, Prince Hiccup," Gobber stood up with a wink and clunked to the door.

Hiccup wanted to ask if that was meant as something more, but decided against it. "Are you going back to the banquet?"

"I have to. I was the one who took your place." Gobber chuckled, then his smile became grim. "Think about what we have talked about. No more of… this." Gobber waved his hand in Hiccup's general direction.

"You just gestured to all of me."

"Exactly," said Gobber before exiting the room.

The door closed, and Hiccup was left to stare at the banner fluttering slightly as if to mock him. He growled in frustration and walked to the window to let the wind cool his face. The moon was full and glowing, and yet, as Hiccup stared, a dark blur passed over it in the blink of an eye.

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><p><em>AN: Reviews would be lovely :) Thanks!_


	9. Po I

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the Disney/Dreamworks/Game of Thrones characters, locations, and/or terms. I am just a humble weaver unraveling cloths of stories to thread together and create a new pattern. _If you would like to read the info and details of this fic, or if you are c_onfused about some characters' names,_ you may go to the Preface section. Thank you!_

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><p><strong>PO<strong>

It was a strange thing, life was. One moment he was running the streets, trying to survive off whatever money he had working at the pub, and now here he was, overlooking the great green valley that was his home, and, eventually, his land.

"Po."

"It's such a beautiful place, uncle," Po breathed. "Why would father ever leave?"

"Your father wanted more to his life than being stuck in a castle responsible for the lives of his people, so he left. Now please, focus."

"I still cannot believe I will be the lord of this wonderful Valley."

"I cannot either."

"I always dreamt of being a knight, but a lord?" Po inhaled the fresh air. Even after four moons he could not find a single experience he was tired of. Training under his uncle was grueling, and every single day he would find himself with bruises and scratches he never remembered having, yet he would be willing to go through it again and again. "Me!" Po looked at himself, huge belly and all. "Of all people!"

"Your father was my older brother, and you are his son. It is your birthright."

"How did you know I was his son? You never met me before."

"You look like him."

"But you and he look nothing alike-"

"We had different mothers. Are you done, Po? Shall we get back to your defense drills or would you rather have a history lesson? I would gladly send you to Maester Oogway for that."

His uncle glared at him. Po recoiled. Shifu Mu may be three heads shorter than his nephew, with a broken leg, graying black hair, and an oddly long moustache, but just one look with that determined gaze of his was enough to send Po running to the other end of the Valley. Shifu's intense eyes were the reasons no one underestimated him.

"I apologize for my rudeness, uncle. I-I meant no disrespect."

"Bring your staff up." Shifu rapped his own staff on Po's knuckles. Po flinched and returned to the starting position. Shifu grumbled something unintelligible then said, "Feet apart! There! Now staff up!"

Po did the best he could. He did not know if it was from his weight or from his utter lack of coordination but he always kept getting the steps wrong, his uncle's staff quickly finding its way to the offending body part to correct him. Shifu may be crippled on one leg but was still more agile.

"Left. Right. Lunge, then parry. Lunge again, and again. Then spin left and thrust!"

Spinning on the spot, Po lost his footing and crashed to the ground. Shifu clicked his tongue as he stood over him. "We have been at this routine for nearly a moon's turn now. Do you have any intention of learning it?"

A soft crunching of the grass interrupted Po's answer. Uncle and nephew turned to see who the newcomer was. A hunched old man leaning on a walking stick hobbled his way up the hill.

"Maester Oogway," Shifu said. "What brings you here?"

The Maester held out a folded piece of paper bearing the crossed sword sigil of House Mu. "A letter from your children, my lord."

Shifu took the unopened letter and broke the seal. Po watched from his place as his uncle's eyes flitted across the paper. "Shikoba has won the joust. Hamza placed fourth. And Chanda still wishes to join the melee."

"I do not doubt she will win that." Maester Oogway said, sitting down beside Po. "She is as bullheaded as her father." Po chuckled at that, but stopped upon seeing the look on his uncle's face.

"I shall personally send them a letter of congratulations." Shifu tucked his staff under his arm. "Po desires to have a history lesson anyway. Please do indulge him." And limped away.

Po waited until his uncle had gone to speak. "I disappoint him because I do not deserve to be the heir." he sat up, shoulders slouching.

"I think you disappoint him because you think you do not deserve to be the heir."

Po looked at Maester Oogway in puzzlement. The old man was wrinkled all over, from his face, to his hands, to his feet sticking out of his sandals, and even his balding head; from what Po knew he was the maester even when Shifu was a boy. The metal links that signified Oogway's status as a maester rang softly as he shifted his sitting position.

"Maester…" Po did not know how to word his question, so he let his voice trail off and die.

"Lord Shifu mentioned that you wish to have a history lesson," the maester said brightly. "Do not be afraid to speak, young lord. The past holds a lot of answers to questions in the future."

Scratching his head, Po thought of what he wanted to know first. There were many questions he had, such as about his father, and his uncle, even his cousins. They were all mysteries to him. All he had in life before this one was the pub in Jun, for two and twenty long years.

"Maybe we could start from the beginning?" Po asked, and then immediately wondered if he had spoken right. "And by beginning, perhaps when my father was a boy, his childhood here, his family."

Maester Oogway smiled, as if he had been back to that time. "Ah yes. Your father. He was the eldest, born of an arranged marriage between your grandmother and grandfather. A marriage that was full of love, mind you, but it did not last long. When your father was only three, he, then your grandmother, fell ill. She died, and we thought he would not survive. He did, and your grandfather was resentful. When Lusine had proposed another marriage, your grandfather agreed, and out of that marriage was Shifu. Your father was left to his whims, and your uncle was the one who was trained in combat.

Your uncle adored your father. They were close, but there was always a rift between them, one created by your grandfather. Nothing was done to bridge it. When your father turned eighteen, he left the valley, and never returned since. We knew nothing of what had happened to him, until you were found."

Po felt like the burden in his chest was easing little by little. "Did what uncle say is true? Do I truly look like my father?"

"Oh yes, strikingly so. You have his big black eyes full of wonder, his round, robust face, and his even rounder belly." Maester Oogway poked Po's belly with his walking stick. "And by the looks of it, you also have his appetite."

"Then what of my uncle? What happened after father left?"

"Oh, he took on the responsibility of being the heir presumptive," the maester waved his hand dismissively. "We could not tell if your grandfather was delighted or not at your father's disappearance, but he was proud that his heir was worthy of Mu and the valley. Behind your grandfather's back, Shifu told me that if your father chose to return, he would turn over the lordship to him, as is the birthright of the eldest son."

"But father is gone," the burden felt heavy again. "And now I am the heir."

"That is right. And that is why you should follow your uncle and train harder."

"But I am!" Po retorted, then cupped his hand to his mouth. "I apologize for the outburst."

"He returns," Maester Oogway tried standing up, but wobbled and sat back down. He laughed. "If it is not a bother…"

"Of course not!" Po got to his feet in one fluid motion and gently helped the old maester up. "Would you like me to escort you back to the keep?"

The maester lightly hit him on the head. "I am not fully incapacitated, my boy. I can manage. But thank you, for your concern."

Po bowed in respect, and the maester gave him a nod in return. Shifu passed him with a stern look before turning to his nephew.

"Have you had your fill of history now?"

With a smile Po picked up his staff. "Yes uncle. I am ready to try once again."

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><p><em>AN: Reviews would be lovely :) Thanks!_


	10. Merida II

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the Disney/Dreamworks/Game of Thrones characters, locations, and/or terms. I am just a humble weaver unraveling cloths of stories to thread together and create a new pattern. _If you would like to read the info and details of this fic, or if you are c_onfused about some characters' names,_ you may go to the Preface section. Thank you!_

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><p><strong>MERIDA<strong>

She felt bliss. She felt alive. Most importantly, she felt _free_. This was not some escorted ride in the woods. For the first time since their arrival, Merida had forgotten that she was in Thronos. It almost felt like home.

Angus soared over the fallen tree as she nocked another arrow on her bow. She let it loose, and it flew straight at one of the small targets she had hung during her first unsupervised ride in the woods. The arrow lodged into the midst of the countless ones already there. Merida grinned and laughed. In Thronos, she was Lady Merida Dunbroch of the Highlands, daughter of Lord Fergus and Lady Elinor. In the woods, she was just Merida.

She pulled Angus to a stop. A loud thumping reached her ears, and was slowly becoming louder. "Bloody stars," she swore, and almost clamped her hand over her mouth. She had forgotten that she was in the woods where her mother could not hear her.

From the thicket to her left a gray horse jumped out and landed nearby, its rider giggling uncontrollably. Merida rubbed down Angus on the neck, calming him, while she stared wide-eyed at the little girl on the back of the gray. She was astounded; even when she was already three and ten her mother still forbade her on Angus. This girl looked barely ten years.

The girl noticed her and her smile faded. She muttered something Merida couldn't understand, and bowed her head numerous times. It dawned on Merida that perhaps the girl was apologizing.

"It's fine," Merida spoke slowly, wondering if the girl spoke Common Tongue.

"Fine," the girl repeated, and her smile returned. She placed a hand over her heart. "Zhen."

"Merida," she said, and did the same.

A shout came from the area of trees where Zhen had emerged. The girl bit her lip, giggling again. "Mama!" she called.

Another horse shot out of the trees and stopped beside the gray. Merida's breath hitched. She couldn't believe her eyes. "Lady Mulan."

The lady of Jun paid no attention to her, and was gently scolding the girl on the gray. Zhen stuck out her tongue, and Mulan pinched her playfully on the arm. "Mama," Zhen whispered.

Lady Mulan turned to Merida's direction and bowed her head. "Apologies for the ignorance. Good day to you, Lady Merida Dunbroch."

Merida could only nod; Lady Mulan remembered her. A croak escaped her, and she cleared her throat. "Merida… Merida is fine, my lady."

"If I am to address you without your title then you must call me by only my name as well," said Mulan. "Since I am of lower rank than you."

"Lower rank? But you're the exalted princess! So named for being-"

"Exalted princess?" Mulan laughed. "Do the singers call me that? Exalted, maybe. But I am no princess."

"No princess…" Merida echoed. "Yet Linna…"

"Yes," Mulan smiled, and led her horse to stand beside Merida's, the girl following closely behind. "The Linna faction is known for styling their ladies and lords by princesses and princes, though they are not the ruling members of the realm. So named because the Linna believe that the castle by the shooting star was inhabited by the first rulers of Animare, a council of highborn and smallfolk alike, who called themselves princes and princesses. So in a way, you are also a princess of Linna."

"I've never heard that before." Merida frowned.

"You were not taught that?" Mulan tilted her head slightly in amusement, a puzzled expression on her face. "Would you like to ride with us?"

"Gladly!"

"I have not yet introduced my daughter," Mulan gestured to Zhen as they coaxed their horses into a trot. "Zhen Li, of Jun. She's still learning to speak the Common Tongue, but she can understand." Her eyes flitted to the bow in Merida's hand. "Are you an archer?"

Sitting full height on Angus, Merida declared proudly, "Yes, I am. You are actually one of the reasons why I am one."

The lady's laugh sounded like bells ringing. "I am honored. Were you at the tournament yesterday? I don't think I saw you."

"My mother will not let me," slouching in her seat, Merida pouted. "She tells me that ladies are not supposed to have bows, that I am supposed to earn callouses from embroidering, and not nocking arrows."

"My mother and father told me that I was supposed to know how to prepare, brew and serve the perfect cup of tea. It's not that I didn't learn. I suppose fate has a way of opening up a path to you, and you just have to find the courage to take it."

In the late afternoon sun, the exalted princess had changed. She who had once been only a hero now became a guiding light for Merida. "So you chose your own path because you did not want to brew tea?"

Mulan shook her head. "I chose that path because I didn't want my father to walk down it. It just happened to be one that I would love. Besides, being someone so prim and proper does not to suit me." Zhen giggled at that, and Mulan pinched her daughter again.

"Zhen seems to think so too." Merida said, laughing. "Is Zhen learning how to be prim and proper as well?"

"No!" Zhen cried adamantly. "No, no, no!" She continued to speak in the foreign language, making gestures that looked like swinging a sword and shooting arrows.

Mulan spoke softly, and Zhen fell silent with a sheepish grin. "Forgive her. Unfortunately, my daughter got her sense of humor from her father. We train her in etiquette, and also how to wield a sword, shoot arrows, fight with her fists. We merge what we have learned and teach them to her, including how to brew tea." Mulan glanced at Zhen accusingly. "Although she has yet to master it."

"Taste like…" Zhen trailed off, clicking her tongue. She looked at her mother and spoke a word.

"Swamp water."

"Swamp water!" Zhen repeated with glee.

"That's a bit harsh, is it not?" Merida asked, although she too was laughing. "Though who am I to say, we don't have swamps in the Highlands."

"We should invite you to tea. Zhen would gladly demonstrate her brewing skills so you could taste the finest swamp water Jun could offer."

"Mama!"

Merida stayed silent as she watched the mother and daughter tease each other. Her heart ached, she could not fathom why. It wasn't until the words _Please take me home with you_ crossed her mind and were almost spoken that she realized the reason.

"Merida! Merida!"

She looked up. Zhen was grinning from ear to ear, slightly hunched over on the saddle. "Horse race?"

"Horse race?" Merida repeated, confused.

"Race the horses!" the girl's tone was slightly annoyed, but still excited. "We race the horses! To castle!"

"She wants to race you to the castle," Mulan explained.

Tossing her head back, Merida replied, "See you at the gates, then," before pressing her heels against Angus and taking off like an arrow let loose.

She heard a garbled shout behind her followed by more giggling, but she didn't stop nor look back. Angus may have been an old warhorse of her father's, but he still had verve left in him. She heard her name being called, and she looked over her shoulder to see Zhen and her gray closing in, Mulan not far behind. A laugh bubbled up from Merida's mouth. She truly felt like this could have been home, and they could have been her family, and for a while she let herself believe so.

In the end Zhen beat her by only a fraction. Both girls were out of breath as they dismounted and led the horses to the stables.

"Very fun, was it not?" Zhen wheezed. "Hope we can race again."

"You're a very good rider," Merida ruffled the girl's short dark hair. "How old are you?"

"Seven!" she piped, and Merida flinched. Beaten by a child, how tragic.

"It was an honor spending time with you," Mulan said, putting her fist to her hand and bowing, the Jun manner of respect. Zhen followed suit. "I hope we will get to do so again."

Merida copied their bow. "It will be my pleasure. Thank you."

Mulan smiled at her, then led her daughter to the part of the castle reserved for the foreign highborn guests. Merida stared at them disappear through the doors before finding her way to the Dunbroch rooms. She chewed at her lip, thinking over what Lady Mulan had said about choosing their own paths. Merida wanted to be an archer, maybe join the army too. She could be as effective as any soldier on her father's army, if not more. She stopped at the door to her parents' chambers and was about to knock. Her father's gruff voice stilled her hand.

"Does she know already?" Fergus sounded tired, as if he had wanted to go straight to bed but was forced not to.

"She is out riding. Again." Elinor was more composed. "That has to stop, Fergus. A maiden must not be riding alone in the forest."

"When did _you_ know?" He had ignored her comment.

Her mother sighed. "Just this after noon, when we were walking in the garden. Lady Chanda was there as well. From what I have heard around court, Naga was House Mu's candidate."

"And Toothiana for Sigurd."

"Quite. But the decision was ultimately the king's and his council, regardless of Lord Nicholas being there. Merida is to be Prince Hiccup's betrothed."

Merida's hand dropped to her side. Had she heard wrong? Was it true?

"When will it be made official?"

"On the last day of the celebration. The king will announce it. Our daughter will be the next queen." Merida could hear the pride and joy in her mother's voice.

She shook her head violently, her curls turning more into a tangled mess around her. "No," Merida whispered, her eyes wide in horror.

The door swung open suddenly. Merida jumped back, staring at her father's bewildered face. "Merida?" he exclaimed. "How long have you been there?"

"Be-betrothal?" Merida sputtered, looking from her father to her mother and back.

"Please, my dear, may we talk?" Elinor gestured to the seat across her.

With rigid steps Merida entered the room and sat down. She glanced at her father, who dipped his head and left the room, closing the door behind him, then turned to her mother. "Betrothal, mum? Was that why we came to Thronos so early? To present me as Hiccup's betrothed? Why me?"

"Linna has no fit candidate to unite with Lusine," replied Elinor, her tone not betraying anything.

"What about Rosalind Dysme?" Merida remembered the young daughter of Lady Aurora and Lord Phillip. The girl was roughly her age. She strained her mind as she went through the list of ladies she had met before. "Melody Myrddin? Any of the Desmond girls?"

"All of them belong to houses who are already sworn to Lusine."

"Oh! The ladies of Arendelle! Are there not two of them? What were their names?"

Elinor shook her head. "Arendelle has sequestered itself from Animare, and perhaps even Linna, for a long time, just like Corona. They are having enough trouble as it is. From what I have heard, Lady Elsa has been missing, presumed dead. Lady Anna… well there is no one to speak to, or for, them.

"My daughter, please. It is your duty, and an honor. This is what you've been preparing for your whole life."

"No, it's what _you've_ been preparing me for my whole life!" Merida rose to her feet. What infuriated her more was her mother's expressionless face. "I will not be some puppet in this bloody mummer's farce!"

"Merida-"

"No!" She had to get away.

She stormed out and ran to her room. Slamming the door behind her, Merida threw herself on her bed and buried her face in the furs, inhaling their scent and calming her as the familiar smell of home washed over her. She felt like she would cry, but found that she could not.

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><p><em>AN: Reviews would be lovely :) Thanks!_


	11. Jack II

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the Disney/Dreamworks/Game of Thrones characters, locations, and/or terms. I am just a humble weaver unraveling cloths of stories to thread together and create a new pattern. _If you would like to read the info and details of this fic, or if you are c_onfused about some characters' names,_ you may go to the Preface section. Thank you!_

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><p><strong>JACK<strong>

_It's almost time to pay your debt._

The sun was bright beyond his eyelids, and Jack had to blink several times to rid himself of the stinging feeling.

"What a lovely morning, isn't it?"

Jack groaned and pulled the covers over his head. "Must we do this everyday, Tooth?"

His cousin laughed. "It has been a full moon's turn since your arrival Are you still not used to this routine?"

"I will never be used to it." Jack stretched and yawned beneath the covers. He pushed them away and gave Tooth a disapproving look. "Let me break my fast first."

"But my lord, you may always eat while walking." Tooth smiled sweetly.

"Then allow me to correct myself. Let me eat in peace, without having to converse with anyone else."

Tooth just twirled on the spot, her favorite cloak almost giving him a headache at the flashing colors, before leaving his room. Jack stared a moment more at the crossbeams above and sighed. Every morning in North Pole was spent greeting the people who brought supplies at such an early time. He wanted to change the receiving to midday, but Tooth would not let him. Apparently the time instilled discipline. The time did instill something in Jack: chagrin.

He rolled out of bed and dropped on the cold, hardwood floor. "Fisherman be damned!" he hissed, rubbing his knees.

As soon as Jack had pulled on his doublet, a deep blue trimmed with gold, he padded barefoot out of his room, boots in hand, and headed to the Globe Room. To the unfamiliar, the Pole castle was an underground spoke, with rooms arranged in a circular pattern around the center that was the Globe Room. It was named such for its dome shape, the largest visible part of the castle that was above ground. It doubled as a receiving and dining area, as well as the place where special occasions were held. At times it was also used as a meeting room. To Jack, it was his most favorite place within the main castle. It contained the large table map carved out of the wood found only in North Pole, done in the image of the Animaren continent.

Jack pushed the door open and dropped into the chair at the head of the table. Tooth was not there. She was perhaps out in the courtyard already, greeting the people. Jack snorted to himself and pulled on his boots as the door leading from the kitchens opened.

Aster Bunnymund walked in, a sheaf of parchment under one arm. "Lord Frost."

"What brings the bunny into the Globe Room?" Jack said, piling bacon on his plate.

"Message from your uncle."

Jack looked up. Aster waved a piece of parchment sealed with the sigil of Sigurd. He tossed it towards Jack, and it slid across the table, coming up to a halt just within reach. Jack set his fork down and picked up the letter.

"Not by raven, I hope?"

"For someone so carefree, you seem to think much of omens," Aster sat a few seats away and poured himself a goblet of wine.

Prying the seal off, Jack unfolded the parchment and skimmed through the message. "Hm."

"Something of note?"

It felt like a burden was lifted out of his hands and thrown into the sea. "Tooth is not to be betrothed to Hiccup; Lady Merida Dunbroch of the Highlands is."

"Not very keen on the idea of an arranged marriage, are you?"

"I would sail to Animat the moment I get word of one for me." Jack glanced at Aster. "And you'll help me escape."

Aster rolled his eyes. "If I wanted to be fetched by the fisherman, then by all means, yes. I'd rather incur your wrath than your uncle's."

"Perhaps if I paid a high sum?" Jack crunched on a piece of bacon. "Don't laugh, I will find a way to obtain enough gold."

A knock on the door interrupted Aster's answer. Maester Sandy looked in and found Jack. "Lord Jackson, Lady Toothiana requests your presence in the courtyard."

"You're going to have to drag him out there, Sandy," Aster said before draining his goblet. He picked up the sheaf he had been carrying earlier and tucked it once again under his arm. "Lord Frost would not budge even if his life depended on it." Sniggering, he left through another door, one leading to the main hall.

"Lord Jackson?" Sandy spoke softly. There was an insistence to his tone, one that Jack could not ignore.

He shook his head and stood up, stuffing a few more pieces of bacon in his mouth. He followed Sandy through the corridor that led out to the kitchen, where he saw the little girl Sophie gaping at him. "Still not used to me, are you?" Jack ruffled her hair, and the girl squealed with laughter.

When Jack finally stepped out to the courtyard, the usual noise of animal and man greeted him. Sandy pat him on the back then made his way to the maester's tower. Jack rubbed his eyes and tried to stop himself from yawning. He failed.

"Cousin!" Tooth ran to him, several children trailing behind her. "I have something to ask of you. Could you greet them without me? I am needed at the orphanage."

"Of course," Jack waved his hand. Tooth grinned widely and spoke to the children, their excited voices fading away as they hurriedly left. Jack did not like this, being alone to meet the people.

Tooth was very much like her father. They loved helping the children, providing more than enough food, giving out toys on the day that honored the Guardians of North Pole. Tooth, when she was two and ten, had volunteered to manage the orphanage. Jack could not think of a day since then when she would not visit.

"Good morning, Lord Jack!" the boy called Jamie walked up to him, bowing low and holding up a bottle. "Wine?"

"Perfect," Jack swiped the bottle out of the boy's hands.

"M'lord, a goblet-"

"There's no need," said Jack before taking a swig and handing it back. He needed that to get through the morning without Tooth.

This was not the life he was meant for. He was content with what he did in the kingdoms across the sea, finding ways to feed and water himself by participating in various forms of games as long as it involved money that he wagered. He didn't have any land to tend to, no people to worry about. Just himself, that was enough.

He didn't expect to be staying for more than two or three moons in North Pole. He was not planning to either. Jack was not ready to take over just yet, and he did not think he would ever be. But he will play his part, be the lord North Pole requires, and, when he has had his fill, he will leave in the night, an official message to be left in the Globe Room with his decree that Toothiana will be the heir of Sigurd and the lady of North Pole. And by the time his uncle returns, he would be across the sea. Jack smiled at the well-thought out plan. All he needed to do was wait for the right moment.

"May the fisherman shower blessings upon you, m'lord!" Geron, the old man who fed the horses and reindeer, said his usual morning greetings.

Jack nodded at him. "And to you."

"The Lady Toothiana is not with you?"

"There was a pressing need at the orphanage this morning." Jack said. "I suppose she will not be here 'til late."

"The lady is busy as ever," Geron shoveled some hay into one stall. "We hope you find yourself not bored by these morning greetings."

Jack opened his mouth, but found nothing to say. Perhaps his expression gave away much of what he had been feeling. "It is my honor to receive my people, those who have worked so hard to provide for a house such as this."

Geron smiled widely, reaching up to his eyes. Somewhere in the back of his mind Jack sighed in relief. "I shall be leaving you to your chores. I have to greet the others."

"Of course!" the old man bowed so low Jack thought he wouldn't be able to stand straight anymore.

The usual pattern of asking tiny things about this person's house, or that person's ailment, the questions that were usually spoken by Tooth, were left to him, and he had to put up with their answers. He nodded when appropriate, and spoke when he felt he needed to. More questions asked, more time spent. He heard a distinct rumble from his gut. The bacon was not enough.

At least he was nearing the end. He spotted the siblings, Lumi and Kliment, unloading their cart of vegetables by the gates.

"A good morning to the two of you!" Jack called, and he wondered if that sounded too enthusiastic.

The girl, Lumi, managed a dip of the head, her hands occupied by several heads of lettuce. "My lord, a good morning to you as well." She nudged her brother with her elbow.

Kliment looked over his shoulder and looked Jack up and down. "Good morning," he grumbled, and returned to unloading.

"Not very talkative, is he?" Jack asked.

"I'm afraid not, my lord. He is a man of few words, my brother is," Lumi carefully dropped the lettuce into a crate. She patted Kliment fondly on the back before stacking more lettuce into her arms. Her brother murmured something to her, and walked out the gates, eyeing Jack suspiciously. "Just like Maester Sanderson."

Jack laughed. "I haven't heard anyone call Sandy by that name in a long time."

"You are very comfortable with your subjects, my lord," she looked at him as though he were some strange apparition. "I hardly see that in a highborn."

"It is my duty as a guardian of North Pole," Jack said out of habit, then rolled his eyes at this.

"I have heard as much." Lumi was about to place the next batch of lettuce into the crate when she gasped and dropped them. "A splinter," she said, pulling the glove off her hand and calmly examining her finger.

"Here, let me help," Jack stepped forward and took her hand, turning it a certain angle so the piece of wood caught the light.

"No, you don't have to-"

He ignored her. As he was squeezing the skin around the piece, he felt that her hands were ice cold. "Do you not own a thicker pair of gloves? The cold will damage your fingers. You could easily trade several of your lettuce for a decent pair in the market."

Lumi pulled her hand back with such force that Jack just stood there blinking at her, not knowing how to react.

"The splinter hasn't been extracted yet."

"I thank you for your concern, my lord. It will be gone eventually."

He took a step toward her, but her brother was suddenly in front of her, blocking him off. "Did you hurt her?" his voice sounded like the rumbling of an avalanche.

"I did no such thing!" Jack looked to Lumi for help, but Kliment and his mountain-like body eclipsed her.

"He is telling the truth." Lumi stepped around her brother and placed her hand on his arm. "Marshmallow, heed."

"Marshmallow?" Jack said with a laugh. "How could such a huge man have a contradictory name? Are you from Berk? Were you named after the plant?"

Kliment grunted and picked him up by the front of his doublet, lifting him in the air. Jack shouted in surprise and squirmed, holding onto the man's hands. "Put me down, brute! Don't you know who I am? I am the heir to this-"

He was dropped unceremoniously, and his legs crumpled beneath him, sending him sprawling on the ground. He looked up to find the man smirking and Lumi kneeling beside him, supporting him up.

"Kliment!" she scolded. "He is the heir to the house! No matter how obnoxious he may be, he is still our lord."

Jack narrowed his eyes at her. "Obnoxious?"

"Forgive me, my lord. I was merely stating the obvious."

He stood, and she with him. Jack studied Lumi, her hair tucked away into a maid's cap, wearing a dirty apron, gown and gloves, but staring at him with the most intense deep blue eyes he had ever seen. He took a step back, as if he had been pushed away by their ferocity. He cleared his throat and straightened his doublet. "Well then. Go back to work, what ever it was you were doing."

Lumi curtsied. "Yes, my lord. I would also like to beg your pardon for my brother's behavior. He can be rather... aggressive at times."

Jack nodded and turned to walk away, noting that her curtsy was more in the manner fit for a highborn than a peasant.

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><p><em>AN: I don't know if you got my PM, but I'd like to thank Denise Siah, hopelesshoneyxo, and lockgirl for following this fic. And to lockgirl, I hope I can manage to keep up the writing :) (And gosh, I am no George R. R. Martin XD His works are way better than mine)  
><em>

_Reviews would be lovely :) Thanks!_


	12. The Refugee

**A **(BELATED)** MERRY CHRISTMAS TO EVERYONE!**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the Disney/Dreamworks/Game of Thrones characters, locations, and/or terms. I am just a humble weaver unraveling cloths of stories to thread together and create a new pattern. _If you would like to read the info and details of this fic, or if you are c_onfused about some characters' names,_ you may go to the Preface section. Thank you!_

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><p><strong>THE REFUGEE<strong>

"That showed way too much, m'lady."

"I know. I should have been more careful."

"Yes, you should have."

Elsa looked at Anzo with chagrin. "You should be too, dangling the lord of the house like that. Thankfully he is not as haughty as the others I have met or else we would have been hanging by our feet at the battlements."

"I could reckon as much," Anzo said, removing the knitted cap off to run his hand over his bald head. "But House Sigurd is known for their protection of the smallfolk. He wouldn't dare." He pulled the cap back on.

"That may be so," Elsa turned to where Lord Jackson Sigurd had left. "Yet he is not his uncle. We have to watch ourselves."

"Then curtsy like a lowborn next time, little sister," Anzo picked up the sack of potatoes he had dropped in haste to get to Elsa's side. "And learn to say 'm'lord' instead of 'my lord'."

"Force of habit." Elsa tried to push the splinter out of her finger. "Do we have some sort of pincers at home to remove this?"

"Just suck on it." Anzo said casually, hoisting the sack over his shoulder.

Elsa grimaced. "I will not. It is not appropriate."

"Then what do you wish me to do? Forge a pair of pincers?" Anzo's stern expression turned into one of sympathy. "Apologies, m'lady, but if you wish to live like a lowborn, you have to act like one." He walked in the direction of the kitchens, leaving Elsa alone to unload the lettuce.

Elsa sighed. It had been only a year, but it felt a lot longer. She didn't wish to leave. Arendelle was her home. But Arendelle was also her prison.

She breathed out, remembering her years locked in her bedchambers. The mist did not form from her mouth, a peculiarity she had observed when she was younger. It came as no surprise. She was different, after all. And that difference cost her more than anything: her family, her kingdom, her life.

Scarcely was she three years when her parents found out to their horror that her chamber was filled with a thick blanket of snow, with her in the middle of it all, ice and snow flying out from her own hands into the air. It had not been a bother. Her parents told her to keep it to herself, to them, and, eventually, her sister.

Anna was especially fond of what Elsa could do. Three years apart, they were inseparable. They always had adventures in the snow, snow that were, at most times, of Elsa's doing. In the Great Hall of the castle, at the pond by the courtyard, in their shared chamber. Sometimes they were even joined by Olaf, a young orphan who had been dropped at the kitchen doorstep and was now a page to the Stendahl household.

A fortnight before Elsa's ninth year, Anna had woken her with a plea to play in the Great Hall. To her eternal regret, Elsa had consented. The play had started in high spirits, and then a blast to Anna's head ended the years of innocence and began the years of solitude, and guilt, and pain. Her parents' death at the hands of a storm did nothing but worsen all that she felt.

Elsa bit her forefinger and sucked. She felt the piece of wood drop on her tongue, and the slight metallic taste of blood followed. With hesitation, and without practice, she tried to spit the piece of wood on the snow beneath her. It stuck to her tongue stubbornly no matter how many times she tried. Irritation took over and she gingerly picked the wood from her tongue, flicking it away. Slipping the glove over her hand, she shivered. Not from the cold. Never from the cold.

"Lettuce again?" a voice called, jolting Elsa out of her own thoughts. Aster Bunnymund walked toward her, the thick gray furs of his coat moving about, making him look like an oversized version of his family's namesake. Elsa coughed to hide her laugh as she imagined him having large, fluffy ears.

"What would you prefer, ser?" Elsa regarded him with a bright smile. "Are carrots more to your liking?"

Aster huffed, shifting his hold on the wooden practice swords. "If I were given a copper for that same jest every time, I could buy myself a galley and sail to Animat."

She tilted her head slightly. "You would leave? Is it the current lord of the house that has caused you to think such things?"

Walking close to her so she could hear him whisper, Aster said, "Between you and me, Lord Frost may be an arrogant man-child but he's got a proper head on his shoulders." He looked her in the eyes. "Don't you ever tell him I said that. Nor anyone. Can't have it going around that I've got a soft spot for the boy."

"Oh the shame it would bring upon your name," Elsa quipped as she bent down to pick up one of the lettuce heads she had dropped.

"Forgive me my ignorance, m'lady," Aster tossed the wooden swords on the ground and helped Elsa with the remaining lettuce, placing them in the crate afterwards. "Lumi," he said when they had finished. "In a moon's turn we are having a celebration for Lord Jack's name day. He is already a man grown," his voice dripped with mockery at the last sentence. "Every one is invited, and Frost knows none of this. Perhaps you and Kliment would like to join us?"

Elsa looked up at him. Her breath hitched in her throat. "I…" she stammered. Back in Arendelle she was not one for celebrations, even on her own name day. "I am going to have to ask Kliment as well."

"It would do well to come. More for him to know you, more for you to know him. It has been the way of Sigurd, as you are well aware," gathering the wooden swords, Aster nodded at her. "And the wine will be free flowing. Sandy says there are enough boars in stock for the whole Pole to feast on. Your herbs will be needed." He winked.

Allowing herself an airy laugh, Elsa replied, "We shall think about it. It is still a moon's turn away."

"You and Kliment had best be there!" Aster called over his shoulder as he walked towards the armory on the other side of the grounds. "No one in the Pole gets left behind at such a celebration!"

Elsa waved him farewell, even when he was no more to be seen. She let her hand drop to her side.

During the past year they had been at North Pole, never once had she nor Anzo joined in any of the celebrations Sigurd had, which always involved their people. Though the population of the Pole was enough to hide them, there was still the chance that Lord Nicholas would have sought them out and talked to them, which would lead to more questions than none. They already had a story for such occasions, but it was better if they were avoided.

"Was that Aster?" Anzo had returned from the kitchens, the empty sack draped around his broad shoulders.

"Yes," Elsa turned back to the cart to gather the remaining lettuce. "He was asking us if we would like to join at the name day festivities in honor of Lord Jack."

Anzo snorted, a sound that was like a roaring bear. "In honor of that brat?"

"You and Aster have a very high regard for the lord of the household," she mused. "Perhaps you could share it with him."

"As you have when you called him obnoxious? I will have to tell Aster about that." Anzo shook his head in amusement. He hauled the crate of lettuce up to carry to the kitchens. "Sweet sister, will you kindly bring those bundles of rosemary afterwards? I have to go find Aster and share to him our little exchange with Lord Frost."

Elsa opened her mouth to reprimand Anzo for the jibe at Lord Jack but he was already too far away.

She was glad they found refuge in North Pole. The ice capped mountains and weather reminded her much of Arendelle. They were able to make easy friends with anyone here, like Aster Bunnymund, without any regards for their past. It was the safest place to be that was the easiest to reach. The guardians of North Pole took in even runaways from all facets of life. That was what they were, runaways, Elsa thought bitterly, and it was all her fault.

_Not entirely, _she tried to tell herself. A year ago ships with no banners docked at Arendelle. The soldiers who never spoke of whom they swore to intended to invade the small kingdom. But a particularly harsh winter had just come and gone, so food was scarce and the Arendelle army weak. In retaliation, Elsa saw only one way to protect her people. Against her better judgment she froze all the invaders. Though she had succeeded in driving them away, she saw the fear in her people's eyes, the same look she saw in her parents that night she had hit Anna. Before then it was never known beyond the castle of what she could do. She fled, knowing that Arendelle would never be in good hands if she stayed. Anzo, her own personal guard, tracked her down, and reminded her of his promise to her parents, to keep her safe. Together they made their way to North Pole, where they met an old lady who grew vegetables and took them in. She never asked them where they came from, not once, even when she was on her deathbed. Old Eme died without knowing their real names, but she left with them her vegetable garden, which Elsa and Anzo maintained and expanded, as a source of income and in memory of the kind soul who helped them.

Hefting the bundles of rosemary into her arms, Elsa shook the thoughts of the past from her mind. It did not do to dwell on them, even if the soft voice in her head reminded her that today was the day she had left home, to return never again.

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><p><em>AN: First off, I would like to thank prettylittlewitch for the follow and the fave, and for the compliments :) Perhaps the reason why this fic doesn't have as many reviews or faves is maybe because of the setting? (Since GoT isn't exactly everyone's cup of tea) But I hope this fanfic will be worth your while :)_

_To hopelesshoneyxo, thank you so much for that review :) No, I don't have connections to Finland but I do have an online source (Behind the Name, great site, worth checking) which I used for the names of almost every character that I had to name/rename._

_To lockgirl, thank you so much for that review :) The storyline is planned out already, but the chapters aren't written out as far as it is. However I do edit bit by bit as well, since sometimes I write something in, or I think of something else that could knock a peg from the storyline. Basically, it's a bit of both :) As for your last question, I hope this chapter answered it :D_

_As always, r__eviews would be lovely :) Thanks!_


	13. North II

**A **(BELATED)** HAPPY NEW YEAR TO EVERYONE!**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the Disney/Dreamworks/Game of Thrones characters, locations, and/or terms. I am just a humble weaver unraveling cloths of stories to thread together and create a new pattern. _If you would like to read the info and details of this fic, or if you are c_onfused about some characters' names,_ you may go to the Preface section. Thank you!_

* * *

><p><strong>NORTH<strong>

"Good day, Lord Nicholas. I trust you slept well?"

North could feel the presence before he heard the voice. From his recline on the pillar, North turned around to face Facilier. The man had long, bony fingers that were at most times splayed apart, tips touching. He had a thin mustache over thick lips, a gaunt face, and a lean body. Today he wore a velvet brown robe over a purple doublet, tied at the waist with a red sash, his black hair carefully curled and slicked at the top of his head.

"Yes." North preferred to be laconic in his replies to the Master of Whispers. He felt that the more he spoke, the more Facilier could assume from his words.

With a wide grin, Facilier gestured to the entrance of the council chamber. "Shall we?"

"No one has arrived yet." North said. He knew he shouldn't have come early; Facilier was always the first to arrive.

A fortnight had passed since his arrival in Thronos. It had been the night of the third day of Prince Hiccup's name day celebration, and his retinue struggled to find their way to the Incantare castle with all the participants and visitors taking up space in between the docks and the castle. As soon as North rode his horse through the gates he was called to an urgent meeting with the council regarding the betrothal of the prince. North was taken by surprise, and had scarcely tried to vouch for his own daughter when Facilier stepped in to justify the Dunbroch alliance.

"The only candidate from Linna, Your Grace," Facilier had said, a half smile on his lips. "It would do well to bring another Linna supporter into the fold. I bear no offense when I say that Lady Naga is quite… rough, and too far from the line of her own family's succession."

"And my daughter?" North had sputtered, trying to rein in the turn of events. "What of her? She is-"

"Suitable, no doubt. But Lady Merida-"

"Merida is no closer to the seat of Dunbroch than Naga is from Mu's." If they were going to interrupt each other this whole council meeting, so be it. "So I do not see the significance of such a betrothal."

"Lord Nicholas," Facilier's tone was like that of an adult trying to reason with a child. If North had his dagger he didn't know what he would have done. "A betrothal with Linna will bring us one step closer to the peace we have been so yearning to achieve. If the marriage bears fruit, then Animare will be united under two factions, their sons and daughters the very symbols of peace."

"If it doesn't? What then?"

"And you are so sure that it will with your daughter? Lord Nicholas, please. If I couldn't tell any better, I'd say you were trying to gain favor with the crown."

North bristled at that. "You watch your tongue, you-"

"Silence!" Stoick glared at the two of them from the head of the table.

"It was merely a jest, Your Grace," Facilier said simply, and then turned to dip his head to North. "My humblest apologies if I have distressed you in any way, Lord Nicholas."

North did not reply; he couldn't find any words to say to him. Stoick stood, and the rest of the council followed. "I suggest we retire for today. Lord Nicholas has just, after all, arrived from his trip. I shall inform you of my decision regarding this matter on the morrow." He swept his eyes around him, pausing for a while on North, then on Facilier. "A pleasant evening to you all."

The following morning North awoke to find that the decision had been made just as he had entered the council chamber. He had privately congratulated Lord Fergus Dunbroch and his wife later that day, and again, formally, on the day of the announcement, the last day of Prince Hiccup's name day celebrations. Since then, he felt like the shadows in his room had grown bigger.

"My fellow council lords!" Lord Gobber's peg leg was now clunking on the stone floor, interrupting the tense air between North and Facilier. "Good morning to you!"

"Lord Gobber." North welcomed the intervention with open arms. He sidestepped Facilier to shake Gobber by the hand.

"A good morning to you, Lord Hand," Facilier bowed ever so slightly. "What pressing matter has the king called for this early?"

"To be honest," Gobber said as he scratched the back of his head. "I haven't the faintest idea. A page was sent to my chambers just as I was finishing the juicy mutton chop in my dreams," he guffawed. "It appears I am still wanting for the feast, even though it has already been half a moon's turn."

"I'm sure you are." The king strode to them with a grave expression. "My lords, if you could please join me in the chamber."

North, Facilier and Gobber followed Stoick and sat at the table. Gobber looked around at the empty seats. "Your Grace, the others…"

"We have to start without them." Stoick pulled out a parchment rolled and sealed in a sigil North could not make out. He unfurled it on the table and stared at it before turning to the council. "This message arrived from Berk before dawn. Pirates from the west were spotted at the edge of Berk borders."

North's eyebrows furrowed. "I thought there was a treaty with the pirates years ago."

"Lord Ingerman is not sure, but he reports that this fleet might be commandeered by new blood." Stoick said, reading off the letter. "Berk has been sent a message. These pirates request to meet with me."

Gobber's laugh echoed throughout the chamber. When he had composed himself, he said, "Who do they think they are? The fisherman himself? Surely you don't mean to travel to Berk, Stoick?"

"They are threatening Berk," with a flick of the wrist, Stoick turned the parchment around and slid it to Gobber. "They say they have dragons on their side."

This time Gobber laughed even louder. "You mean to tell me these new folk have in possession creatures that have not been seen on Animaren shores for over a century? And you will present yourself to them?" he shook his head in disbelief. "Stoick, as your friend, I advise you to stay and leave the craven to Ingerman. I am sure he can take care of them easily."

"And as my counselor, Gobber?"

North leaned back on his chair, watching as the tension filled the room. From the corner of his eye he could see Facilier with a hint of a smirk.

"As your counselor," Gobber started, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I advise you to stay. Thronos needs you as well. You may not know if what they have for you is a trap."

"I may not know if I do not go," Stoick said with a sigh. "Berk is my home. Our home. Any threat imposed on our home has to go through me, regardless of their intentions."

"Then I shall go with you." Gobber was a stubborn man, but even North could see that Gobber himself knew that the suggestion was not favorable.

Stoick could see that as well. "Gobber…"

"No need to get your breeches in a bunch, Stoick," said Gobber, twirling the parchment on the table. "I know I must be here to rule the kingdom in your stead. Yet there is still a sense of foreboding I feel. Is it wise to rush to Berk without having to wait for more word?"

"There is no time," The worry on Stoick's face showed that the situation was more than it seemed. "I must leave for Porthaven at once. I shall take Lord Myrddin with me; he can arrange for the fastest ship that could take me to Berk."

"You will be needing protection, Your Grace," North stood and bowed. "Allow me to accompany you. If not the Lord Hand, then your second in command." He had been the second highest-ranking commander during the Haddock Rebellion, even higher than the king's own cousin. "Surely you will permit this."

"I agree with him," Gobber looked to North, then to Stoick. "You must take at least fifty men, if not more."

Stoick stared at him for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. Fifty men and Lord Nicholas. Perhaps Lord Facilier would like to see Berk as well. Your shadows may be of use."

"Your Grace, you flatter me." Facilier rose with a wide sweep of his robe followed by an exaggerated bow. "I pray this voyage will only be a negotiation, and no more."

"Lord Nicholas, go to Lord Spitelout's chamber," Stoick commanded. "I believe he may still be abed at the moment. He never did favor early meetings. Tell him to select forty of his best men and ten of his best commanders, and have them report to the annex courtyard. Lord Facilier, to Lord Myrddin. Inform him of our intentions. The fastest ship in his fleet, if he can. We shall meet him in the annex courtyard with the others. It is there where I will explain everything else. Now go, hurry."

North and Facilier took their leave. Upon stepping out of the doorway, Facilier turned to North, "This will be one thrilling adventure!"

"This is no adventure," North felt the anger in him; the presence of Facilier on the trip will be his bane. "One wrong cast of the line and this may end up being war."

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><p><em>AN: Reviews would be lovely :) Thanks!_


	14. Hiccup II

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the Disney/Dreamworks/Game of Thrones characters, locations, and/or terms. I am just a humble weaver unraveling cloths of stories to thread together and create a new pattern. _If you would like to read the info and details of this fic, or if you are c_onfused about some characters' names,_ you may go to the Preface section. Thank you!_

* * *

><p><strong>HICCUP<strong>

The practice sword barely missed his head. A drop of Hiccup's sweat ran down his face and dripped onto the blade. He almost let out a cry of relief.

"Very good, Lady Astrid," Ser Phoebus complimented. He circled the frozen forms of Hiccup and his sparring partner. "Back to starting positions."

Breathing a sigh, Hiccup straightened from the awkward twist of his body that allowed him to dodge the sword. He stared across at Astrid, who was of his age and the daughter of Lord Hofferson, commander of the City Watch. Her thick hair the color of corn was braided down her back, the boiled leather armor she wore hiding her slim frame. She was sent from Berk five years past, along with Hiccup's own cousin Snotlout, son of the Lord Commander, the twins Tuffnut and Ruffnut, and the plump Fishlegs, who had been named so for not being able to stand properly on land but had the best balance out at sea. Before Hiccup had left for Thronos, he grew up with them on Berk, where he was no more the child of the king than they were.

"Your Highness, I would suggest raising the defense on your left." Phoebus raised Hiccup's right arm, pulling so it rested across his body down to his left side. "Try that. Swing sideways to block, swipe forward to parry, and follow up with an underhand."

Hiccup heard the words without truly absorbing the meaning. He just looked at the master-at-arms with a nod and assumed the stance. His heart pounded against his chest. He never was good with swords, even in Berk when it was all play. All he could do was offer up a prayer to the Fisherman that Astrid would finally take pity on him and let him leave with only a swat to the cheek.

"Ready, Your Highness?" Astrid said, lifting the sword to an attack position. Hiccup knew she preferred the axe to a sword. She was better with it too, but she had easily picked up on the southron way of fighting that one could not tell the difference. Not that Hiccup had a chance in defeating her with either.

"When you are," he tried to keep his voice level, and his arm from shaking.

The morning bell tolled. Hiccup let his arm fall to his side. Ser Phoebus looked up in the direction of the bells. "I suppose that shall be where we will stop for the day. Perhaps we could resume this sparring session on the morrow." He took the practice sword from Hiccup. "Good day to you all."

"Perhaps the prince would like to come early on the morrow," Snotlout muttered once Phoebus had entered the armory. "Then we all wouldn't have to waste our mornings waiting for him just to get his ass trampled by a girl."

Astrid smacked Snotlout upside the head. "Respect, Snotlout."

"To be fair to Astrid, I couldn't tell who was the girl in that fight," Tuffnut elbowed Snotlout, and the two of them sniggered. "My sister's nose hair looks more manly than the pri—ooofff!"

"Oh, I am terribly sorry, my lord," Astrid said, mock worry etched all over her face, an empty metal sword scabbard pushed into Tuffnut's abdomen. "I don't know how this silly thing found itself in your gut."

Hiccup watched them from the corner of his eye as he took off the chain mail and armor. Tuffnut swat away the scabbard, and it flew to the ground, spinning to a stop. He bumped into Astrid before striding away to the dining hall. Snotlout offered a half-hearted bow before running after him. Ruffnut shook her head and let the armor just fall to the ground, then she too followed her twin. Fishlegs bit his lip and shuffled away. Only Astrid was left in Hiccup's company.

Glancing around at her, Hiccup spoke in her direction. "That was an… illuminating spar, Astrid. I pray we will have the same experience on the morrow, if not more." He was letting his mouth run away from his mind again, this time without his father's presence to stop him.

"Spare me the pleasantries." Astrid picked up the scabbard and stuck it in a sword rack on the wall. "You know as much as I do that my last attack could have been a strike to your head. It would do well to drill yourself even in your own chambers, Your Highness."

"Please, no more of this 'Your Highness' nonsense." Hiccup waved the words away with a laugh that sounded too high-pitched. "We grew up together, there is no need for such titles. I would no more have called you a lady in private than you would have called me prince."

Astrid walked up to him. She was so close Hiccup could make out the beads of sweat on her brow. "We are no longer in Berk, Your Highness. Anything that there was can no longer be." They held each other's gaze for a moment, and then she passed him, heading to the dining hall.

Hiccup kicked a fallen helm. It clattered away, hitting the wall to bounce back.

He decided to skip the morning meal, even with the enticing aroma of the food wafting from the dining hall. He instead made his way to the blacksmith's behind the armory. He stopped at the doorway to watch the smith hammer away at a newly forged sword. Jim was one of several men from the previous reigning house Leolin who was retained at Thronos for his skills. Men like Ser Phoebus, who was a commander of the guard a few years before but due to an injury had to be relieved of his position and taken on as master-of-arms to teach Hiccup and the children of the highborn from Berk. Rumors circulated the Haddock household that Jim was born across the sea and had discovered an island of treasure, but went to war alongside the Leolin forces from across the sea in a battle that came to be known as the Crossing Rebellion. He was captured by Haddock men, but found that he had a gift for forging, and was employed.

Imprisoned, Hiccup thought. Jim had very little freedom, never allowed out of the castle, and, until recently, was kept chained at his own forge, under the watchful eye of at least two guards who would take away the weapons that had been finished.

"Your Highness," Jim said, not taking his eyes off his work. "What would you like to make this wonderful day?"

"Do you still have my designs?" Hiccup entered the dim workplace, the fires from the forge the only source of light. "It's been a while since I've been here."

"I can hardly blame you, m'lord. With the entire realm at your celebration, it would be difficult to steal away to a place like this." Jim set down his hammer and tongs and walked to a metal cupboard in the corner. He pried it open and took out a bundle of papers bound in a leather sleeve. He then handed it to Hiccup before returning to the sword.

Hiccup untied the leather binding and flipped through the papers. This was where he found strength. He had always said to Gobber that he would rather be a blacksmith than a lord's son. Now that his father had left for Berk, Hiccup was expected to seat the throne, receive the guests, make decisions for the better of the realm and its people. Such things would consume his time, and he would not be able to be here in what he calls his sanctuary. Jim saw that they shared the same gift, and he allowed the prince to stay, teaching him the craft. Hiccup had since kept his own designs of armors and weaponry hidden with Jim.

"What do you think of a winged suit?" Hiccup mused. A lot of times he would tell the smith his ideas, asking for suggestions and opinions, and was taken seriously in return. He had spoken to Gobber about his ideas before, the Hand being a blacksmith himself before the Haddock Rebellion who first taught Hiccup about forging, but Gobber had just laughed in his face.

"You would have to find a high place to jump off from," Jim answered. "I highly doubt the king would consent with you climbing to the highest tower and leaping to a possible death."

"Such is the truth," he muttered, his thoughts abandoning the winged suit and studying the sword he had drawn up two moons ago. He pulled out a piece of charcoal from an attachment at the side of the leather binding and sketched away at the drawing, adding notes on materials and forging processes. The rhythm of the hammer beating the metal and the scratches of the charcoal on the paper filled in the silence.

"Or perhaps this flaming-"

"Pardon, Your Highness."

Hiccup looked up from his perch on the table across the doorway. A pageboy whose name escaped him stood there, eyes averted. "The Lord Hand wishes to see you."

"He does?" Hiccup inserted the charcoal back in its place and slammed the leather binding on the papers shut. "Did he say what else he wanted?"

"No, Your Highness," the pageboy shuffled back and forth. "M'lord Hand just insisted you come to him at once."

Sorting through his mind for what reason Gobber had to send for him, Hiccup tied the leather cord around the binder and handed it back to Jim, who gave him a small nod and returned the binder back to its place in the cupboard. He gestured for the pageboy to lead the way.

The boy walked through the armory with Hiccup trotting behind him. They passed the dining hall, where the clamor of the morning meal had already decreased to a murmur, and the annex courtyard where just a few days past his father had gathered the men to accompany him back to Berk.

"Where are we going?" Hiccup asked as they rounded the castle to the gardens.

"We are going to a very important meeting," Gobber answered for the boy, who had taken his leave and disappeared in the blink of an eye. "I don't suppose you have already forgotten why I called for you."

Hiccup stared at him, his mind still muddled from earlier in the day. "Perhaps you could remind me?"

Gobber steered him to the archway that was the entrance of the large garden. From their position they could clearly see the line of stone benches. On the one closest to the archway sat a lady in emerald green, her bright red and curly hair pulled back from her face by a gold circlet engraved with running bears, wringing her hands impatiently.

"Fisherman be damned." Hiccup cursed under his breath, and Gobber pinched him on the ear.

How could he have forgotten? It had already been close to three weeks since the start of late morning walks with the Lady Merida Dunbroch. His betrothed, he could scarcely believe it. "Has she been waiting long?" He hadn't even changed from his practice clothes full of sweat and dirt.

"Forgive the bluntness, Hiccup, but you are a fool to have asked that." Gobber pushed Hiccup forward. "Now go apologize for your delay."

"And then what will I say?"

"Make up a story, I don't know. I have never charmed a lady, as you can tell."

Hiccup scowled at him, but Gobber had pushed him again, so he stumbled out from their hiding place and almost fell forward had he not regained his balance at the last possible moment. Merida looked around, alarmed. Hiccup managed a slightly dignified bow. "Apologies, my lady. I took too long in breaking my fast. The bacon was exceptionally good this morning with the mutton I could hardly keep my hands off my plate." Fisherman, take me now, he added in his mind.

The look Merida gave him seemed to border on confusion and disgust. "Shall we have that walk?" she spoke slowly.

"Of course!" he offered his arm to her, and she tentatively placed her hand on it.

They took their usual route in the garden, down the rose path, followed by the bluebells, and then the daisies. They were at the heart of the garden when Hiccup finally decided to break the silence.

"I did not actually come from the dining hall," he said. If he was going to be tied to this lady she may as well know what kind of person she was marrying. "Nor did I have my morning meal. I was…" he paused, both in speaking and walking. Merida turned to him, genuine curiosity on her face. "I was at the smith. I mostly spend my time there, drawing up designs for weapons. And before that I was beaten by Lady Astrid at a practice sword bout."

Hiccup looked at Merida, trying to decipher her reaction, which did not show much. He gulped. Most, if not all, of their walks were spent with nothing to talk about, and if there were subjects breached, always about how hot the weather was, how beautiful the flowers were in bloom.

"Perhaps the sword is not for you?" Merida said with an incline of her head.

"Perhaps…" Hiccup was amazed that she had responded in a way he did not expect.

"Are—are there no other weapons you have managed to master?" she stammered.

He did not know what to make of this question. No man, let alone lady, had bothered to ask him that. "I suppose not. I was only ever trained with a sword, or an axe, or a mace. The last two are particularly common in Berk."

"And archery?" her eyes sparkled at its mention.

"No, I was never…" Hiccup saw her face fall ever so slightly. "Are you skilled in archery?" he ventured.

For the first time he saw her smile widely. "Lady Mulan herself said I was better than her at this age. But," her smile faltered. "My mother believes I should not be doing such things."

Merida looked away, gazing at the castle but not really seeing it. He had struck something in her. "Well, your family is still all the way in the Highlands. Will you teach me?"

She snapped her head back to him. "What?"

"Will you teach me? Now?"

"Now?" she gaped at him, but he was truly serious. He smiled at her.

"Where is it do you usually practice? Although we can always go to the practice range by the armory-"

"I know a perfect place!" Merida exclaimed, and she tugged at his hand. "It's just at the edge of the woods. Not far from the castle, but just enough that we wouldn't be seen. Let us just get my bow and arrows at my chambers, if it pleases Your Highness," she suddenly remembered her courtesies and composed herself.

"No, please, I am your apprentice for today, and you the master," Hiccup let her drag him to the castle. Even if this betrothal was not where his heart was, if they were to be wed, then he may as well make their lives a little more at ease with each other.

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><p><em>AN: Late upload because our internet service provider decided to have a system maintenance over the weekend so we didn't have any connection __-_- _

_Thanks so much to winterwolfofwesteros for the follow!_

_Decided to capitalize the word "Fisherman" starting from this chapter onwards to differentiate it from the common term "fisherman". Still thinking of capitalizing "shooting star" but since it isn't an occupation or any other common term, I might just keep it as is._

_Reviews would be lovely :) Thanks!_


	15. Vanellope II

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the Disney/Dreamworks/Game of Thrones characters, locations, and/or terms. I am just a humble weaver unraveling cloths of stories to thread together and create a new pattern. _If you would like to read the info and details of this fic, or if you are c_onfused about some characters' names,_ you may go to the Preface section. Thank you!_

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><p><strong>VANELLOPE<strong>

Stifling a yawn, Vanellope put down the cloth she was embroidering. It was a hot day in the Farlands, and it made her want to take a nap. She glanced at Lady Lillian, who sat next to her working on a particularly difficult stitch.

"May I be excused?" Vanellope whispered, half hoping she was heard. This was only Lady Lillian after all, and not with the grumpy old Lady Maylis Fay.

Lady Lillian looked her once over. "My child, are you ill?"

"Sleepy is all," she replied, and this time she let her yawn show, making sure to cover her mouth so as not to be considered rude. "The journey still has me weary."

"Is that so?" there was worry in her voice. "Yes, you may be excused. A nap before supper would do well for you. I shall tell Harold you have taken to bed."

"A many thanks, my lady," curtsying as she was taught to, Vanellope exited the solar.

She was truly thankful. Out of all the members of House Dal, only Lady Lillian showed her the sort of care she saw from parents to their children. And with Lady Fiona and Ser Shrek, and even Ser Shrek's page Rhondd, those whom she only has come to know recently, were more respectful and kind to her than any other person she had known longer.

As she climbed down the steps from the castle wing where Lord and Lady Dal's chambers were located, she found herself running her fingers on the necklace, the smooth metal cool to the touch. Three years now it has been around her neck, a shackle in the guise of a trinket, never to be removed.

The day after House Dulcie fell, the house whence she came, she awoke in a strange bed in a strange land, with even stranger people and the necklace already there. Lord Harold had said that it was for her own good, for reasons he did not divulge. She remembered nothing else before that day. She was told she had a father, a vile man who rebelled against the king and was then punished for his treason. Lady Maylis always emphasized that Vanellope should be grateful to Lord Harold for taking her in when no one else wanted to raise the child of a traitor. Vanellope then wondered, never aloud, what would have happened had Lord Harold not taken her.

Her former home was a mystery to her. The Farlands lay across the continent from where the Sweetlands used to be. She had looked at maps and the few paintings she found in the Dal library, but none of them conjured any image of any home before the Farlands. Yet once in a while there were some memories that seemed to surface at some ordinary event. One time she smelled peppermint from the tea that Lady Fiona was drinking, and she thought she heard a man's boisterous laughter from afar, or the time she ate candied fruits and a vision of bright pink and cream stripes flashed in her mind's eye. She felt that all that she needed to do was return to the Sweetlands, even just for a quick visit, and the heaviness in her heart would lift, a heaviness with an unknown source. She had asked that once before, but Lady Lillian did not answer, Lord Harold refused, and Lady Maylis seemed to have a fit at the very mention of it.

"Ungrateful child," Lady Maylis had called her. "Still wishing to go back to a desolate place when all that one could ever wish for was at your fingertips."

Vanellope had said nothing, but one of the things she _did_ wish for was not at her fingertips: the choice to be free of the necklace she knew naught about.

"He is here, m'lord," the voice of one of the guards echoed in the empty hall. Vanellope stopped her descent and crouched low at the balusters, peeping through the gaps down to the foyer.

Lord Harold stood there, talking to the guard. "He is? Where did you send him?"

"To the crypts as you have instructed, m'lord," the guard replied.

The lord of the house leaned close to the guard, but Vanellope could still hear him despite his hushed tones. "And are you sure no one followed you?"

"Aye, m'lord. We even had to kill a farmer when he had been staring too long."

In the hot weather, even with sweat trickling in between her shoulders and back, Vanellope felt a chill run down her spine. Lord Harold waved the guard away. He looked around first, and Vanellope had to move away from the edge, before leaving through the door that she knew led to the crypts.

She pondered returning to her chamber. She had felt exhaustion from their immediate departure across the westerlands back from the prince's name day celebration. But all of that was out the door the moment she decided to stay and listen to the conversation. Vanellope cursed herself and her curiosity.

Taking off her shoes with the noisy heels, she continued her descent barefoot. Upon reaching the foyer she quickly rounded the corner to the gallery and down the short flight of steps to the garden. She had gone to the crypts a few times before, when she was left on her own to explore the castle as she wished. She followed the path and turned left, through tall bushes that hid the way to the crypts. She stopped short of the large stone door engraved with the Dal sigil of a lily flower. Taking a deep breath, she grasped the metal handle and pulled carefully, leaving an opening just enough for her to slip in.

The stone steps were damp and cold under her feet, and she half wished she had passed by her chambers first to get her velvet slippers. She sniffled and bit her lip.

Lord Harold's voice was more distinct. "-sorry if I cannot offer you a drink. This arrangement has to be done in secret."

"I could have guessed, my lord," the voice was heavily accented. Vanellope wasn't familiar with it, but the person was definitely not from the same place as Ser Shrek. "Forgive my boldness, I assumed we were to speak of the transaction forthright. I have other places to be."

"Oh, of course. A man of your…" Vanellope could just imagine Lord Harold gulp. "Expertise. You can do it? He is from Animat, same as you."

"No man has eluded me, _if_ I am paid the right sum."

"Yes. Will this be enough?" a loud clunk rung within the crypts. The sound of an unsheathing sword preceded the ripping of a cloth. The tinkling of falling coins followed.

"When do you want it done?"

"The day after the morrow. Wait for him at the wood by the stream. When you are done, bring me his head."

Vanellope held back a gasp. She slipped back out, breathing heavily. She was aware that there were hired knives to kill for the highborn, but this was the first time she had ever witnessed a transaction. She suddenly heard footsteps ascending the stairs of the crypts. She ran and stumbled to her chambers, shutting the door behind her. Crawling under her covers, she closed her eyes and let sleep take over. Her dreams were filled with whispers and cold fingers on her neck and wildfire down her throat.

She was woken at dusk for supper. With a foggy head Vanellope made her way to the dining hall where she sat in between Lady Lillian and Lady Fiona. Letting the talk pass between her, she ate the buttered turnips and roasted quail in silence. When she looked up, her eyes first met Lord Harold's. She frowned, like a half remembered dream started to ring in her mind.

"You left your shoes in the garden, Vanellope," Lord Harold said. "What were you doing there, playing barefoot?"

"I…" she tried to remember, but she couldn't. "I don't know."

"I thought you went for a nap?" Lady Lillian asked.

"I did." She did excuse herself from embroidery. Then she went to the gardens. And woke up in bed.

"Poor child is still light headed from the road." Lady Maylis Fay said from the other end of the table. "Perhaps some essence of nightshade will help her."

Lord Harold nodded in consent. Vanellope turned to Lady Maylis, the woman then smiled at her with that smile that never said if she was happy or not.

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><p><em>AN: Reviews would be lovely :) Thanks!_


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